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selineram3421 · 4 months

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здраствуйте можно сделать реакцию на ревность аластора

Translated:

Hi, can I get a reaction to Alastor's jealousy?

Yes.

Jealousy Headcanons

Alastor X Reader

Warning! ⚠

⚠ platonic to romantic, violence, all caps in bold italics = SOUND EFFECTS, implied torture/murder, gore? eyeballs, possessive? Alastor wants all of your attention ⚠

Alastor has never felt jealous! How absurd of you to think that! Hahaha! Ha... Who is that demon taking up your attention?

He always had your attention.

You could be talking to the Princess but still focus on him.

Hell, you could be checking in a guest and still keep up with his tale of the day.

But now it was quite odd.

There was a demon coming by the hotel, not to see if they were interested in the cause but to use up his friend's precious time.

Even now the beastly thing walked up to the check in counter and started up a conversation with you.

He watched from the bar.

"Hey! I see its dead as ever in here.", the dragon demon grinned as they leaned on the counter.

"Not true~", you had replied. "I checked in four new guests!"

Yes, you had a knack of persuasion. Able to convince many to do almost anything. Sometimes even him.

"Oh yeah? How many sinners walked in?", the scaled creature leaned close.

Far too close for his liking.

"I just told you how many.", you replied and placed a finger on the dragon's snout, pushing them back as well. "Personal space."

He didn't like this demon.

Everything about them set something off. Their manners, their way of speaking, the way they move-

"Oh come on, I don't bite sugar cake~", the beast took your hand and kissed their way up to your elbow.

The way they t̵̬̥̻͂̿̈́ȏ̴̒͠u̸c̷̈́̊̆́̓͘h̷e̴̖̖͒̓͂͋̎ḑ̴̣̋͜ you.

"Nope!", you yanked your arm away and held it close. "None of that.", you laughed nervously with an uncomfortable smile.

It looked wrong. Your smile should be a happy one.

"I said I don't bite!", they laughed and tried to grab at your arm again. "You know I'm messing! When's your break?", they leaned over the counter, still trying to get at something to pull you closer. "I know a good bar to go to, or we can go to the club! I'd like to see your ass in something a little less-"

"Ew, no.", you rejected and backed away.

"Come on!", they started to climb on the counter. "Its just one time! I'll even help you get in and out of your clothes.", they grabbed onto your sleeve.

That's ENOUGH!

He quickly shadow traveled and snatched the wrist of the dragon.

"I believe they said no."

The beast growled with a sneer before looking at him, freezing up once realizing who had their wrist.

"I was just joking man. Haha..", the dragon looked between him and you. "I understand! I'll back away. The slut is yours."

"Excuse me!?", you said angrily.

His antlers grew, the low static that hummed now raising up in volume.

"₵₳ⱤɆ ₮Ø ⱤɆ₱Ɇ₳₮ ₮Ⱨ₳₮?"

"The slut-"

SNAP

He held the demon's snout shut as they screamed and cried over their broken wrist.

"Now, there is a no killing rule in the hotel.", he said and then grinned menacingly. "But that doesn't apply outside."

His smile widened after seeing the panic in their eyes.

"Dear.", he turned to face you. "Has this guest overstayed their welcome?"

You stared at the beast with such a terrifyingly hateful glare.

"Yes they have.", you replied, crossing your arms. "I'd like to keep a souvenir, for memories."

And then you gave him that lovely smile.

"Alastor, do you think you could get me a dragon eye or two? I hear they make nice details to things."

"I'll make sure to get them.", he released the demon, only for his tendrils to take hold of them. "I won't be long.", he reassured, lifting up your hand to kiss the back of it.

He saw you blush before he 'escorted' the demon outside.

After finishing up (and calling Niffty to clean up), he returned with two freshly picked dragon eyes.

You thanked him with an odd little gleam in your eyes. No doubt your mind jumping idea to idea of what you could create with them.

Now with the pest gone, he would have your attention again.

Just like he wanted

"Thank you Alastor. I'll be able to make something interesting with these."

"I can't wait to see what you make this time."

Perhaps he'll ask you that question sooner than later.

Of course he has to prepare everything to properly court you.

I am using a website to translate requests. Please let me know if I have translated anything wrong.

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

@willowaudreykeyes @biromanticboba @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @ducky-died-inside @scary-noodlesblog @lbcreations-blog @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

#alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #gn reader #the radio demon #alastor x reader #headcanons #alastor headcanons #jealousy #implied murder #implied torture #gore?#eyeballs #this turned out more like a fic #he do want all your attention tho

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whumblr · 26 days

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I, too, like the trope 'forced to listen' with hearing agonising screams from the room at the other side of the cell block.

But I'd like to raise with:

Hearing a single gunshot followed by earth shattering silence from the room at the other side of the cell block.

#whump #whump tropes #I just love the finality of a single gunshot #bonus when fake execution #whump prompt #whumplr #implied death #implied murder #captivity #captivity whump #my prompts #my writing

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coltishcaterpillar · 18 days

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Unmasked / Platonic!Father Alastor x Teen!Daughter Reader

Chapter I: Introduction

Summary:

Two days after the Extermination, a bored Emily reads through private records of Heavenly residents and sinners alike.

During her mindless scrolling, she comes across a vintage diary smelling of old paper, from the late 20s-early 30s. It details the life of the teenage adopted daughter of the Radio Demon; up until her death at aged 16 on January 11th, 1934.

WARNINGS: Mentions of Racism

April 4th, 1932

Have you ever seen a top hat, what one really looks like on a person?

Neither have I, until today. At the end of Merritt Street, there’s a small accessories store that sells jewellery and clothing alike.

I used to frequent there, but I’ve never been a fashionable girl. I’m a larger fan of browsing; just admiring the beauty of art from afar, rather than acquiring it.

I never realized how much I missed the little establishment until I saw my favourite businessperson; Anne Brewster. A short, tout woman she was. Her skin had a grey tinge to it, a pointy nose that popped out her features; bright brown eyes and hair as white as pearls, short and thin as straw.

I greeted her with my usual demeanour. Quiet and curt, a straight wave and a superficial smile. The woman has a tendency to chatter; most of the time I don’t have time to interject, so I just listen.

I went in the shop with Elbert Graves; a fellow classmate of mine in mathematics. He’s not my ideal source of company, I’ll admit. I get along much better with other girls, but this helpless boy is always on my tail, and I can’t bare to tell him to get lost.

We came across a jet-black top hat with a golden ribbon wrapped around its rim. It was on display, but there was no glass so we assumed we could sample it. Elbert looked utterly ridiculous in it; far too flashy, and way too gigantic for his pea-sized head.

I managed a small laugh, as that’s the reaction he would’ve wanted from me. Ever the jokester…

I took a seat on the cushioned chair in front of the store’s entrance. Whilst Elbert was fooling around with other gadgets, Anne took to speaking with me.

She spoke a great deal about her grandchildren, and then inquired me about Papa.

Pa doesn’t usually wander about these places, but he knows Anne from university; they attended the same one in Shreveport, in September of 1908. Pa wanted to become a broadcaster post-secondary (to which he achieved) and Anne wanted to edit the local newspaper part-time; she was getting old, but didn’t want to stop working. She didn’t end up pursuing it, however, she dropped out her third year to take care of Rachel (her eldest grandchild who was 5 at the time.) Then, she inherited this business when Mr. Brewster, her father, died. He owned the shop.

She asked about his job was working out for him. Pa never speaks about work when he arrives home; usually he’s more interested in my daily activities. I don’t listen to Pa’s radio channel anyways, because the subjects he covers doesn’t appeal to me.

I just told her he was thriving; because in a way, he was. Pa was rarely in a sour mood. Of course, he gets moody when I do something out of line from time to time, but his attitude is always uplifting.

Elbert excused himself to the restroom at the back of the desk; that’s when she started talking about adolescent things. Boys…..

“Elbert is a such a handsome boy, don’t you agree?”

“Not particularly.”

“Oh? Why do you say that?”

“His chin is too long, and his head is too small for his broad shoulders. Not to mention his personality isn’t to my tastes. He’s far too extroverted and cheeky.”

“Oh, come now, my lovely. Surely, we can’t all be picky! What ever will you do when you grow into a young woman? Who will be around to take care of you?”

“Pa will, no doubt.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. Your father will be far too senile to care for you when you’re in your prime! You need a strong man!”

“Too senile?! Surely, you jest. Pa may be lanky, but he’s very capable. He was only twenty-five when he adopted me, he’ll only be middle-aged by the time I’m an adult.”

“You say Elbert is cheeky, but I see a lot more cockiness coming from you than I ever have with him.”

“Only an outside observer can properly assess my personality. Perhaps you just see my persona differently than I.”

“Is that so?”

The bell hanging from the door rang; in came a man, dressed in a business suit, a large briefcase held in his right hand. He had been more wrinkly than I had last seen him: Anne’s partner, Mr. Devereaux.

He has a very thick Yorkshire accent; Anne and him met while she was on vacation in London; Mr. Devereaux was studying photography. When they first met in late 1864, they weren’t sure whether or not they could ever be together. Anne is a very brown woman, you see. Very. Mr. Devereaux is about as white as a sheet. People often look down on….colourful couples…? More harshly. They aren’t allowed to be married, so they had to improvise.

Forgive me for not mentioning this sooner, but Anne is actually good friends with my Grandma. Pa is half-Creole, you see, and my Grandma’s roots come from there. So, the Brewsters are actually well-acquainted with my family.

Mr. Devereaux sat his briefcase beside the door, across from where I was seated. He flashed me a toothless smile; quite literally, since they all rotted out of his mouth due to age.

I gave him a curious look back.

“Back from business, old man?” I tease.

He chuckled; giving me an affectionate pat on the head.

“Oh, well, look at you! Already at it with the nosy interrogation, I see! I’ve missed you, sweet girl.” He smiled.

I narrowed my eyes. He didn’t answer the question….

He turned his attention to Anne quite quickly. Leaning over the desk, he planted a kiss on her forehead.

“The trip went smoothly,” He told Anne, “Janice sent you a letter. It should be in the mail soon, my darling.”

Janice was their daughter.

“Lovely.”

He turned his entire body so it faced me, with an inquisitive look on his face. He then turned and whispered to Anne,

“Al is out late again?”

“I don’t know, my sweet. I’ve seen her out and about all day with Elbert, he must be. It’s nearly nine.”

“I thought his radio shows were done by four?”

“Perhaps the schedule’s changed, dearest. Let’s not be nosy, it’s not our business.”

I let out a deep breath through my nose, standing up. Pa likes to hang around a few stores after work, so I tried my best not to let their observations get to me. Perhaps he was already home!

Anne leaned over from behind Mr. Devereaux.

“Could you go check on Elbert, hun? He’s been in the restroom for quite a while.”

I sigh. Without a response, I head toward the back desk, into the small hallway that had the restrooms.

I knocked on the door, firmly.

“El?” I addressed him by nickname.

“Mhm?” His hun echoed off the door.

I raised an eyebrow. “What have you been doing in there these past fifteen minutes? It was eight-forty when you went in, it’s five to nine already!”

Within seconds, he came out of the door, an awkward smile plastered on his face. A blush dusted his cheeks as well; I narrowed my eyes at him. Did he have the runs?

“Finished?” I asked him without judgment.

“Yes.” He said, curt.

I lead him back to the entrance of the store, passing Anne a smile. I turn my gaze back to Elbert.

“I’m going to be leaving now. I hadn’t realize how late it was. Will you be alright on your own?” I asked, a tint of concern in my voice.

“Of course. See you later?” His tone was hopeful.

Without a pause, I said, “Yes, I’ll see you later.”

I said my goodbyes to Anne and Mr. Devereaux, and sent my regards to Janice.

When I exited the store, it wasn’t as dark and drab as I thought it would be; I still heard birds chirping, and I could see my way almost perfectly. Just another perk of springtime, I suppose.

When I arrived home, Pa was indeed on the couch, his legs crossed, with a newspaper in hand; black coffee was situated on the side table.

“Home at long last, my dear!” He put his newspaper down; and I ran over, kissing him on the cheek.

“Sorry, Papa. How long did you have to wait?”

“Oh, not long at all!” He chuckled heartily.

I turn over to the rounded wooden table in the dining room; a large cloth bag sat on it; my eyes lit up in curiosity.

“Now, now,” Pa waved his finger, “I know that dangerous gaze. Don’t go peeking around my things, dear.”

I put on a thinned-lipped smile, leaning on the armrest.

“What, do you have something to hide, Papa~?” I leaned in, teasingly.

It was meant to be a joke. A rhetorical question. Yet, I couldn’t help but notice his fist clench up, if only for a moment. His body language was saying something different than what his mouth was.

“Is it really too much to ask to keep yourself out of my business?” He bit his lower lip.

When Pa took that tone with me, I knew it was time to pipe down. I decided to change the subject, sitting next to him on the couch.

“Elbert and I took a stroll around the avenue.” I said, tracing along the armrest.

I could FEEL Pa’s eye roll without even looking.

“Out with that wretched boy again, are we?” He took a casual tone as he sipped his coffee, but I knew the mere thought of Elbert irked him.

Pa has never interacted much with my friends, so I thought El would be another drop in the ocean. I think his hatred of him has something to do with that one time he came over here.

Everything was alright until dinner time.

The few hours earlier, Grandma treated us with a generous amount of Jambalaya. She always makes the best, after all.

Elbert made an….observation? While we were eating and it made Pa freeze.

“This is some slave food! Who made it, a peasant?”

All I remember was Pa’s grip tightening so much on the fork. I leaned over to where he was sitting and rubbed his arm a little.

I disliked the comment too. That was my Grandma he was speaking about….

After El left, I noticed Pa staring at the wooden spoon on the shelf. I know that blasted piece of cutlery all too well….

Pa is good at discipline. Even when my other friends came over, he’d always make an effort to chastise them if they didn’t say please or thank you.

Long story short, I think Pa wanted to beat El. That’s probably why he was showing such immaculate restraint at the table. I can’t imagine another person disciplining somebody else’s child would go…smoothly, anyway.

He had valid reason to hate him, I suppose. I’m not fond of Elbert either, but…how do you find it in your heart to say no? I suppose I’ve never really had a backbone, but…it seems that he’s really fond of me.

“How was work?” I asked with a smile.

“It held all of its classic theatrics! You should find it in your soul to listen to my shows, my dear.” He beamed.

I was deep in thought.

“Don’t I hear enough of your voice already?”

Pa chuckled his little chuckle that always made my chest warm.

“You can never have too much of your father!”

Time went on as usual; a few moments later I decided to pack up for bed; Pa went upstairs to get his radio ready to listen to. He always does before he sleeps.

I took that as an opportunity to ponder; I turned my gaze back to the bag on the table. Pa notoriously hunts, but it was far too late for food, so it made me wonder.

I slid toward it with my socks against the hardwood. I breathed in deeply; perhaps there was a certain scent? All I could smell was the dusty fabric; nothing more.

With a sigh, I decided to leave it for now. Maybe it’s….best that I don’t.

Y/N

——————

Emily blinked once. She recognized the background; that this child of one of the hotel staff in Hell.

Taking the historical piece of literature to St. Peter, she inquired,

“St. Peter, hi! I was just wondering if there is a girl here in Heaven named Y/N L/N?”

St. Peter smiled in delight, getting out his holy book, scanning through all the people with your name; going roughly by last name. His face fell as they came to an end.

“Unfortunately not, Em! It’s…strange, considering the circumstances. Sixteen is very young for a person to end up in Hell…but she isn’t in Heaven.”

Emily frowned, eyeing the diary in her hands. Perhaps she’d find the answer in there….

#hazbin hotel #1930s #alastor #platonic alastor x reader #alastor x reader #child reader #fanfiction #hazbin hotel emily #implied murder

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yandere-fics-n-stuff · 1 year

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TFP Yandere Optimus Prime - The Soft Yandere

Ayo, not too good at writing so I made this blog to try and get a little better. :)

If you have suggestions, I'm down- but not looking for a huge criticism. Thanks! <3

Optimus probably fell in love with you because you were kind and had a motherly aura about you. You took care of the kids- helping them with their homework, making sure they were well fed, and caring for their inevitable injuries they’ll get from the Decepticons.

You were a gentle soul, guiding the kids to do the right thing and teaching them all they would need to know for the future. Any time anyone (bot or human) had a question, no matter how “dumb” they thought it, you would answer with a kind smile gracing your face.

Optimus always thought that you were beautiful from the moment he laid eyes on you- both inside and out. At first, he was content to just have talks with you about human culture. What did this book mean? What are some good books to read?

Soon, as you had given him knowledge, you wanted some in return. You craved so badly to know of Cybertron. Optimus became your teacher just as you became his.

You both would often go on long drives to beautiful places (that were of course unpopulated) such as rivers, mountains, waterfalls, or forests. The two of you would talk all night about Earth or Cybertron’s histories and culture. Sometimes you both would stay out so late, and you would fall asleep on Optimus’ chest or in his cab. Every time he would so gently take you back to base, making sure to not jostle you. When there, he would take you to his berthroom where he had a human-sized bed to let you sleep on.

Obsession didn’t come until later when you got captured Megatron. Optimus had been careless- he took his eyes off of you when scouting for energon, and you had wandered off to look at a pretty flower. Optimus was so focused on the energon tracker that he hadn’t noticed you were gone until he heard a loud scream coming from behind him.

He quickly ran through the trees, snapping branches as he went when he saw it: Megatron had his claws wrapped around your much smaller frame, a wicked grin across his faceplate. Optimus looked to you for any injuries, but he could only see the terror on your face. You were trying so hard to look calm, he could tell- but because he knows you so well it was obvious you were just barely holding back tears.

“Release her, Megatron!” He roared out.

“Hm, you seem fond of the human, don’t you, Optimus? Then again, you’ve liked fragile things since you were a mere archivist.” Megatron opened his hand slightly, with you sitting in his palm. He looked down at you with a sick grin, “It would be so easy to crush you, wouldn’t you agree little one? Then again, Optimus really seems to value you- perhaps I’ll keep you as a pet.”

You shook like a leaf at his words. The warlord intended to keep you as a pet? You immediately looked to Optimus, eyes pleading with him to save you.

Optimus could feel the energon in his veins pumping loudly in his audio receptors. In his barely contained rage he managed to get out a few words: “What do you want, Megatron?”

No matter how hard Optimus tried to hide it, Megatron saw right through him. After all, they used to be friends- and Optimus had hardly changed since then. Megatron could see the rage behind the Prime’s eyes.

Within moments, Megatron transformed around you. He immediately took off into the skies, leaving Optimus in the dust.

Optimus yelled in rage as his human was taken away from him.

For two solid months, the ancient bot refused to recharge as he searched and searched for you. He checked every signal, every transmission he could just to get even a bit of a clue as to where Megatron was. To where you were.

Optimus was angry. Angry at Megatron, and angry at himself. He blames himself for your capture. If he had just kept you at base, this would have never happened. He should have never even left your side.

Every single day he imagined what he would do to Megatron when he got his hands on him. He would end the war right then and there- and anyone to dare get in his way would join Megatron in the Allspark.

Eventually, they found a transmission from an energon mine. Some Vehicon must have forgotten to encrypt their signal- or it was a trap. Either way, they found from the transmission that the Nemesis would be docking there.

Optimus called all of the Autobots into the main hangar, and then they went through the groundbridge. Optimus was running through the Vehicons like no tomorrow to get to the Nemesis.

Soon, he found you sleeping in the medbay. Bruises covered your body and your hair was unkempt. He felt anger at your state and immediately took you back to where the groundbridge opened, and demanded one from Ratchet.

“Arcee, take them to get medical attention right away.” Optimus gently handed you to the blue bot.

“Optimus, aren’t you coming?”

Optimus began his walk to the Nemesis, “No, Arcee. Return to base, I will be back shortly.”

Hours later, Optimus came back to the base. Dried energon coated his hands- some of it a deep purple. Optimus’ optics were slightly dim as he walked into the base.

Ratchet immediately rushed to him, “Optimus, are you hurt?”

“No, I am unharmed. How are they?” Optimus’ eyes glanced over to you. You looked much better than when he had seen you. Your hair was wet from being cleaned, and your cuts were bandaged up.

“They will live. They’re resilient, they will be back on their feet in no time, June believes. Though, they will need regular check-ups for the next few months- medical and psychological.”

Optimus didn’t respond to his own friend, instead walking over to where you laid. He gently combed a hand through your hair.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you smiled gently at him. “I knew you’d come for me, Op. Thank you.” Tears welled up in your eyes. He gently wiped them away with his digit.

“I will never allow you to be taken from me again. That, I promise.” While you clung to his hand, you failed to notice the darker tone in his voice- or the energon that coated his hand as he lulled you back into sleep.

#yandere #transformers #transformers prime #optimus prime #megatron #optimus prime x reader #tfp x reader #yandere x reader #yandere optimus prime #tw yandere #yandere optimus prime x reader #gender neutral reader #reader #tw kidnapping #tw mild gore #implied murder #implied torture #implied death #maccaddam

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meltedhorror · 3 months

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CAUGHT YOU

Click for better quality, reblogs appreciated!!

. . .

Shoutout to the one jumpscare that genuinely got me

If you haven't already you should absolutely check out Faith!! Especially if you're a horror fan like me :^)

I'm also reentering my fanart era, I can feel it

#my art #own art #faith #faith the unholy trinity #faith unholy trinity #faith the game #airdorf #john ward #krita #digital art #fanart #horror #horror art #implied murder

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ryotheraccoon · 6 months

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@sketchquill

Guess whos back

Uh inspired from when wally dragged y/n to hell or whatever 🧍🧍🧍🧍and no the sleeve and rose arent flipped your just hallucinating wake up wake up wake up

Uh shoutout to the ibis paint materials section for being my lord and savior when it came to the bg hands 🙌

Wally caused a little bit of a struggle but nothing good ol julie couldnt handle!

I wouldve drawn a fully done thing of her if it werent for the fact its 1am and ive got like seven other things i should be doing instead

Oh uh and heres me eating wallys veil cause it looks tasty

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thefoulbeast · 7 days

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no such thing as beginner's luck in the zone

#s.t.a.l.k.e.r.#sketch #implied murder

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shady-tavern · 1 year

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The Tailors on Baker Street

Warning for implied/referenced domestic abuse and murder. Please take care of yourselves, this is possibly a bit darker than my usual fare.

***

There was a tailoring shop at the end of Baker Street, a small but rather popular store, run by a married couple. They were ever polite and friendly, sharing gossip with mischievous winks and listening to the trouble of their customers.

Their wares were of good quality and it was said they could fix every dress and coat, no matter the rip. Whatever one needed, they had it and they were said to finish orders swiftly and as desired. Their fine stitches and detailed embroidery were the envy of many.

There was another rumor about them, shared in soft whispers and away from prying ears. When you had fled to your friend, terrified, helpless and bruised, admitting you couldn't take it any longer, she had told you there was a solution to your problems.

Go to the tailors at the end of Baker Street and present them with a daisy, your friend had told you, briefly dipping into her yard to pluck one, shoving the small flower into your shaking hands. Give it to them, they'll know what to do.

And here you were, in front of a modest, well taken care of storefront. A carriage bustled past behind you and you fiddled with the daisy, doing your best not to wear it down with your gut-wrenching anxiety.

It took more courage than should be necessary to set foot into the store, your heart pounding hard enough you felt it beat in your throat. There were some customers, looking over ribbons and fabric, before examining shirts, breaches and skirts, along with coats and dresses on hangers. They barely paid you any mind, too focused on their tasks.

You nearly squished the poor flower in your grip as you lingered by the door, fighting the urge to leave before someone spotted you.

"Welcome and good day, how may I help you?" a woman's pleasant voice made you flinch in surprise and you turned to the lady who had approached you. She was beautiful and well dressed, if simply, for work. Her dark hair was neatly pinned up and pretty earrings reflected the light.

She wore a brooch, made of three daisies and her eyes held a strange, golden shimmer. You quickly chalked that up to the light falling in through the window. Some people simply had unique eyes, after all, but these held you captive for just a moment despite your body nearly shivering with stress.

"Um." You gestured with your hands, mouth dry and heart pounding. Her gaze fell to the slightly worn looking daisy.

"Oh, how silly of me," she said, stepping back and gesturing for you to walk ahead of her. "You're here to pick up a custom order, aren't you? Forgive me for forgetting, it has been such a busy day."

You wobbled a small, unsure nod and scurried ahead, head kept down. The woman led you to the back of the store, where real custom orders were waiting on a rack, all finished and well made. The space was clean and neat and had two worktables below the windows, one abandoned with a half finished blouse lying neatly on top.

A tall man looked up from the second table, pausing in sewing a silver button onto a dark blue coat. "Has there been an issue with an order, Milly?" he asked, mild and pleasant, voice the nice kind of slightly-deep. He was handsome, his beard and hair neat and well groomed. He was just as well, if simply, dressed as the woman and he, too, wore a brooch made of three daisies.

His gaze fell to the by now somewhat mangled flower in your hands and he hummed in understanding, setting the coat aside. You felt your shoulders hitch up a bit at his undivided attention.

"Please, take a seat," the woman said, gesturing to an empty stool. "We'll be right with you."

As you nervously perched, rather than sat, you saw her set out a sign and close the door to the backroom.

"How can we help you?" the man asked, calm and steady, his hands folded in his lap.

His face was kind, but there was a glint in his eyes, something as cool and sharp as the scissors lying near his elbow. You noticed a strangely golden shimmer in his eyes as well, but you were too anxious and worried to wonder about that.

"We would love to know who recommended us," the woman added and while she smiled, pretty and charming, she too had eyes of sharp, cold steel. "We love to see our business grow in the right direction, after all."

You glanced between them, wetting your lips. "My friend, Jane Martin, said I should come here."

Should you leave? Sure, you were terrified to go back home, but could they really help? Would they even believe you? Was it right to get strangers involved, maybe even hurt?

Lots of people were in your position, stuck with people who mistreated them. Just last week they had fished a dead woman out of the river, face and neck bruised.

At your words, subtle tension eased out of their faces and their eyes lost the sharp coldness. "Miss Martin is a very valued customer," the woman said with a smile that truly looked pleasant now, not just pretty. Something about it made your shoulders relax a little. "Forgive our caution, I am Milly and this is my husband Julius, what brings you to us?"

"You seem a bit haggard," Julius added, a soothing tone to his voice that unexpectedly helped you take a calming breath. "I'll go and make us all a cup of tea."

Milly took a seat by the free table, most likely hers, arranging her skirts in an elegant motion. Their manners were as prim and proper as those of the upper class, though their fingers were callused and you noticed a small scar on Julius' wrist as he prepared tea.

"Take your time," Milly said, voice gentle and patient and you felt your throat tighten all of a sudden, tears blurring your vision. "Speak with us whenever you're ready."

"What about your store?" you asked, an unwanted rough quality to your voice that gave away your emotional state.

"No need to worry." Julius offered you a reassuring smile.

You had no idea how they did it, but their presences felt...pleasant. You usually didn't trust strangers, but looking at them, you found the tight grip around your heart and stomach easing. They did not look at you with pity, and instead their calming steadiness felt reassuring.

Even the guilt and shame felt muted as a gentle floral scent filled the air, sunshine casting everything in soft warmth. Under other circumstances you might have left again, not wanting to bother these kind, unexpectedly pleasant people.

But the fear that had driven you out of your house still sat in your gut like a block of poisoned ice. Once again you wished you had found the courage to back out of the marriage after you had accepted the proposal in front of your family.

Your parents however had been all-too happy that you had married into a rich family and they did not want to hear anything bad about your spouse. They especially had cut you off mid-sentence when you had suggested going public. They would not want to risk the wrath of a richer family upon themselves.

Your father had suggested that it was your fault that your spouse was...unpleasant. That you weren't sweet enough, kind enough, accommodating enough. That you didn't listen enough, that you talked back too much. You hadn't spoken with your parents since.

You had gone to the police exactly once and you knew better than to do that again. Your spouse was a valued member of higher society after all and had made sure you understood how far their influence reached.

"Here you go," Julius said, handing you the cup of tea, his fingers carefully not brushing yours, and sitting down. "Speak freely, we will believe you."

You met their gazes and they were so steady and earnest you felt breath flow into your lungs properly for the first time in days. You believed that they would believe you. It settled something within you, your withered courage taking root and growing enough to help you speak.

Haltingly you told them the story, clinging to the delicate porcelain cup Julius had handed you. You couldn't bring yourself to take a sip, but the floral fragrance and the heat warming your cold fingers helped.

"Are you safe at the moment?" Julius asked after you finished your story.

"I'm staying with my friend." For now. For as long as she could hide you at her place without your spouse causing trouble.

"If you ever find yourself unsure where to go, come to us," Milly said, gaze serious. "No matter the time. One of us will let you in and you will be safe here."

You inclined your head, hoping you were never forced to take them up on their offer. It was strange, however, that you believed that, too. A part of you, more instinct than rational thought, already felt safer. It shouldn't be possible, not when you knew how powerful your spouse was. That simple tailors couldn’t stand a chance against someone who could crush them in so many ways.

And yet...it felt like fear had no place here. Banished from this room by sunshine and the presence of these two, who had eyes tinged in gold. Who looked at you with so much truth nothing could have shaken it apart. You realized that your fingers had stopped shaking, that your skin no longer felt cold.

There was a thread of calm that had settled within you while you had spoken, easing your heart and soul.

"There is but one thing we need of you," Julius said, drawing your attention. "Would you mind leaving the key to your home with us? You can retrieve it again at the end of the week, at which point you can return home."

"Oh, of course." You pulled the key out of your pocket, handing it over. "What are you going to do?"

Milly's smile could have been reassuring and compassionate at first glance, but all it reminded you of was a razor sharp blade held against an unprotected throat. Not your throat, you still felt that sense of safety, but more like a weapon waiting to drink the blood of its enemy. "We'll take care of things, don't you worry."

You should keep asking. You should ask what they were going to do. If you were a good person, like the priest preached you were supposed to be, you would ask for the key back and request they forget your visit. You should return home, obedient and quiet and accept the place you had been given. The hand fate had dealt you.

But your mouth felt glued shut and the courage rooted within you stubbornly grew a tiny bloom of hope. Fuck fate. Fuck God if this was what He considered just and right. You deserved better, you deserved to live without fear and pain. You handed over the cup when Julius held out his hand for it.

"Let me show you out," Milly said and you found yourself secretly glad to not immediately lose her company. "There is a carriage that will take you back to your friend." When you tried to protest, she silenced you with a sweet, genuine smile. "Let us look after you as long as you're here."

While Julius cleaned up the cups, Milly accompanied you to the front step of the shop and waved over a waiting carriage. "Make sure she gets home safe, Leopold," she said, offering her hand to help you into the carriage.

"Stay safe," she murmured at last and for just a moment, you swore the gold gleam in her eyes was brighter than ever. You nodded and she closed the door, her gaze holding yours until the carriage lurching into motion. Even then you looked back at her and saw her watching you leave until you rounded the corner.

You gripped the thoroughly mangled daisy tightly and closed your eyes. You didn't dare pray, worried that god might notice and put a stop to things. But deep down, you hoped you would be free soon, no matter how it happened.

*.*.*

You returned to the shop at the end of the week, feeling exhausted and frayed, like an old, worn piece of fabric. Your friend had done her best to distract you and keep you busy, but it hadn't helped against the tension that wouldn't leave you.

It was early when you showed up and Milly had only just opened the store, since both had just finished setting up the last of their wares.

"Ah, good day, my dear," Milly said with unexpected warmth, stepping toward you as though you were truly welcome company.

You were surprised to see how happy and languid she appeared to be. Her husband moved with the same deep relaxation when he bowed his head respectfully to you, offering a charming smile.

Strangely enough, they reminded you of well fed cats enjoying a spot of golden sunlight. An air of effortless confidence surrounded them, a quiet strand of power that wove into the sense of safety that lingered all around them.

"I'm not too early?" you asked, your nervously wringing hands claming. Whatever they had done, it had made them very and deeply happy.

Milly's smile morphed into a grin and the gold in her eyes was brighter than ever before. She seemed so radiant you couldn't look away. She was easily the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. "No, of course not. Are you ready to head back home?"

You didn't mention that the house of your spouse had never felt like home. The last time you would have called a place that, you had been a child of eight and had stayed with your aunt and grandmother during the summer months. After the falling-out your father had with his side of the family, you hadn't seen them again.

"I am," you answered anyway. You couldn't continue to live at your friend's place. Even if she didn't mind, she was currently seeing a particularly sweet gentleman and once they became serious about each other, you'd swiftly overstay your welcome.

Julius stepped forward, all fluid grace and pulled your key from his pocket. His eyes too seemed brighter than ever, making your eyes linger on his face. He really was so very handsome.

"All is well," he said, quiet and certain, when handing over the key, his fingertips ever so carefully brushing yours.

"Alright." Your voice was soft and you glanced between them. "Thank you. Do I owe you anything?"

"No, not at all, this was our pleasure," Milly answered, voice as sweet as honey and her smile felt like it was meant just for you. "Anything else we can do for you?"

"No, um, but really, thank you." You gave them a clumsy, heartfelt bow and they elegantly curtseyed back, an amused mischievousness to their smiles. "I'll get out of your hair now."

"Our hair hardly minds," Julius answered. "Please, feel free to come back whenever you like."

"We'll be glad to help in whatever way we can, or just to chat," Milly added, leaning against her husband, both of them looking right at home with each other and within their store. "Be sure to speak to Leopold if you like, he'll take you home."

You couldn't help but smile back a bit and after a last dip of your head, you stepped back outside. An elderly woman bustled past you with her grandson, grandly telling him to pick whatever he liked best for his wedding.

You took a deep breath, so deep it almost ached in your lungs and you clutched the key tight. Was...was it over? Just like that? All your worries and fears could cease to be? Rubbing a hand over your face, you approached Leopold, who was softly talking with the horses, massaging their foreheads.

The young man, just barely out of boyhood, was happy to bring you home, helping you into the carriage and whistling as he started driving. You clung tightly to the key, nerves making your stomach squirm and your heart was beating harder, the closer you came to home.

And yet, fear didn't claw its way up your throat. You believed the tailors that it was done and dealt with. You...trusted them, as inexplicable as that might be. It was as if a small bit of safety had stayed with you after your visit to their store and it accompanied you even now.

At last, Leopold stopped and you took a deep breath before leaving the carriage. "Thank you," you said, tipping him some money and his face lit up.

"Have a nice day," he said with a cheerful bow of his head, then drove on.

The house looked just like you remembered it, flowers blooming and nothing was out of place. Swallowing and taking another deep breath, you walked up the path to the front door. You unlocked the door, cautiously peeking inside.

Nothing. The house smelled like fresh air and the maid must've been by yesterday, for new flowers filled the vase on a side-table. Stepping past the threshold, you carefully walked onward, your steps sounding too loud in the silent house.

You found your spouse sitting in the study, breathing calmly and not reacting to your presence. The sharp stab of bitter disappointment quickly faded to startled realization. Empty eyes stared ahead unseen, no emotion visible on your spouse's face.

"Um..." You managed to say after a long moment, but it brought you no reaction.

Your mind rebelled, hurrying towards the excuse of drugs and poison and other mixtures, but deep down you knew your spouse was gone. The thing that sat there was an empty shell, no soul remaining, and you had no idea what to do.

In the end, after puttering around nervously for a few minutes, you ended up sending for the family doctor. The older man who showed up usually came for you, making sure you'd heal fine.

"Oh my, this does not look good," he muttered the moment he spotted your spouse, hurrying onward. "When did you notice something was wrong?"

"I was visiting a friend for a few days," you said and his gaze was knowing when he glanced at you. "I, um, came back this morning and noticed how quiet it was. I was glad at first, but when I went in here to check..." You gestured at the limp, unresponsive body.

The doctor hummed in understanding, already reaching out to find the issue. It didn't take long before they sent for a carriage to bring your partner to the hospital. You were allowed to come along and nurses hurriedly wheeled your spouse away the moment you arrived.

You sat and waited, time passing both too fast and too slow. At last, a doctor approached you, quiet and apologetic. It seemed your partner had suffered an aneurysm and there was nothing they could do. Your spouse would be dead soon.

The tears that rose sharply were seen as tears of grief, instead of the soul-deep relief that swept through you. The staff was very kind, comforting you and letting you sit with your spouse, who didn't even make it through the night. Finally, you were free.

Afterwards you went home, standing in the large, rich house and you realized that it all belonged to you now. The money of your spouse belonged to you. But most of all, you were finally, finally free.

You broke down crying, helpless laughter mixing into the tears and the gasping. Afterwards you took a carriage to your friend's place, forgetting the late hour. You didn't want to stay in that house any longer than you had to. Your friend was startled when she opened bleary eyed, then grimly happy when you told her the news.

"They solve problems like that," she said after holding you in her arms. "The tailors. No one asks how they do it or what exactly they do and we don't rat them out either. I'm so glad they helped."

You fell asleep in her arms and when you woke, the sun shining through the window made you smile. Your heart felt like a newly uncaged bird, almost too afraid to fly and taste that freedom fully.

Hope bloomed like a meadow of wild flowers and you breathed through a new wave of tears. Your future had turned from a grim, dark end into something bright and open. It was all yours, yours to finally do with as you pleased.

The house was soon sold, the art within donated, along with a portion of the money. You fended off your parents, who swept in to try and weasel out money and power for themselves. They deserved nothing after marrying you off to someone they suspected would mistreat you and then left you in the jaws of a metaphorical wolf.

The air was growing cold by the time everything was taken care of and you had moved into a new place, your friend supporting you all the way.

You only rarely suffered from nightmares these days and you slowly unearthed all the pieces of you that you had buried. The pieces your spouse had not liked, had despised. There was damage done, undoubtedly, and some days it felt like too much, but you had so many reasons to keep going. To keep moving forward.

There were people, however, who did deserve a piece of your newfound fortune. Leaves were crunching beneath your shoes as you approached the store at the end of Baker Street, this time not afraid. No, you were anything but afraid.

Julius was taking care of some customers as you stepped inside, a pleasant scent greeting you. A smile was on your face and you breathed in that steadfast safety that lingered with both tailors present. It eased your heart as it had the last two times and this time you couldn't help but sink into it fully, shoulders relaxing.

Milly approached you after ringing up a lady at the counter, smiling in warm welcome. "How lovely to see you again," she said and there was a brief, hard glint in her eyes. "I hope all went well?"

"Yes." You reached into your pocket, pulling out a small box. "I know you said no gratitude was necessarry, but I still wish to give you this. I, um, picked it myself."

She looked charmed and chuckled softly. "How could I ever refuse such a sweet gesture?"

Her fingertips were warm as they brushed yours ever so gently, while she accepted the box. Your hands tingled and you only realized you had leaned slightly towards her, when you caught yourself.

She held your gaze a moment longer, before glancing down and curiously opening it. A happy smile broke out across her face and her gaze grew warm and soft and this time you could admit to yourself that there was nothing normal about the golden shimmer brightening in her eyes.

"You are truly beautiful, inside and out," she murmured, closing the box again and your breath caught a little at her words. "Thank you, for this sweet gift."

You couldn't help but smile back shyly. Julius joined you in this moment, a satisfied customer leaving with a happy spring in their step. "Oh? Did my lovely wife get something wonderful?"

"Indeed." She grinned up cheekily. "And I am not going to share."

"There, um, there is no need." You pulled another box from your other pocket and Julius' eye brightened, that golden shimmer growing. "If you'd like?"

"I would love anything you'll gift me," Julius said, voice dipping a bit to something private, just for you.

He accepted the box, his fingertips brushing yours softly as well, warm and slightly calloused. You curled your hands in, as though you could somehow hold both their touch close this way. Your face started to ache a bit with how much you were smiling now.

Julius opened his box, eyes widening slightly, before he looked up, his smile sweet and charmed. "This is wonderful, thank you."

"I hope you like it, both of you. And that I chose well." You resisted the urge to rock a little on your feet, something your spouse had always hated. You paused. Well, now you had to do it, even if it was just to spite the dark memories in your mind. "You gave me back more than I can put into words."

"Seeing a smile on your face is reward enough," Julius said and for a moment you swore he was about to reach out, before catching himself. "Happiness is a lovely look on you."

"I am happy." And you were. For the first time in far too long, you were happy again.

Ever since you had gotten rid of that house, ever since you had gotten your life back, no matter the struggle and darkness that liked to creep through your mind like seeping tar, happiness and light found you.

It wriggled in through the cracks, surprised you on calm, sunshine mornings and came in the shape of your new, soft little cat. Every time you ate something sweet that had been forbidden before, every time you picked up a book your spouse would have taken away, it felt like you were stitching yourself back together. Crooked maybe, and never like you were before, but...this was already so much more than you had dared to hope for half a year ago.

"We could take a break," Milly offered, gesturing at the currently empty store. "Would you like to join us for tea, darling?"

The question held a tinge of promise and you found you wanted to reach for it. You found you were ready for what might be offered. "I would love to, thank you."

Milly smiled and went to close the store for the afternoon, while Julius guided you to the backroom, his hand a warm, light and most of all, welcome weight at your back.

You didn't care what they were, if they were human or not. You didn't care what they did to people like your spouse. Not when being in their presence made you feel as though you were wrapped in a blanket spun out of gentle, warm sunshine.

*.*.*

Part Two!

If you’d like to read more and support me at the same time, please consider checking out my patreon! I post monthly short stories and every membership goes towards paying my bill and freeing up more time for more stories that I can write for you!

#my writing #original writing #short story #implied abuse #implied murder #i am SO NERVOUS about this piece #this is something that would not leave me alone #I hope I managed to find any and all spelling mistakes #if i mis-tagged or forgot to tag something let me know #i want people to have a safe as possible reading experience #nothing here is graphic but it can still be triggering #healing and moving on towards the end #hi yeah i am on occasion a poly writer #hope this didn't turn out badly written or anything

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avatarchai · 1 year

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[2020] Mon dieu what did he do to Marinette

#is there a tag for fucked up miraculous content??#if so please let me know #miraculous angst #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug art #miraculous ladybug fanart #chat blanc #adrien agreste #chat noir #my art #fanart #2020 art #implied murder #implied violence #implied gore #implied cannibalism #dead dove do not eat

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myrkky · 1 year

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[cw: blood, implied violence]

A patron requested some Billy/Stu!

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selineram3421 · 5 months

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*has a little idea* I've gotta listen to brain commands.

First Day

Alastor and Child Reader

Warning! ⚠

⚠ implied murder, mention of kidnapping, mention of heart attack, shake of head=no, fake crying lol, italic red=Alastor's thoughts ⚠

Alastor didn't understand why some demons worried over the little children that ran amuck in Hell.

That is until he adopted one himself.

Small, wide eyed, and frail looking. Of course he'd worry after a glance. But after seeing the pile of dead bodies beneath their feet, it seemed like there wasn't too much to worry about.

So all he had to do was teach them how to make others fear them. Especially after the whole kidnapping fiasco with Valentino.

And what better timing than their first day of school.

You were playing around in the hotel.

Most of it was following Husk around and scaring the other hotel guests. But then Charlie told Alastor the number of complaints from guests about you and your pranks.

"They are absolutely harmless! What's a little scare going to do?", the deer demon said.

"Someone had a heart attack.", Vaggie piped in.

"Nuh-uh!", you popped up out of nowhere, making the two females jump in surprise. "That frog demon croaked! He's just mad that I made him make a funny sound."

The blonde sighs before holding out a flyer to the red dressed demon.

"Look, I know you're just having fun but not all demons think its funny.", she tells you before looking at Alastor. "There's a school for demon children not too far from the hotel, maybe they can meet demons their age and make friends?"

After dinner you and Alastor sat down on the couch in the hotel room and read through the flyer.

"I don't want to go.", you pouted.

"Don't worry my little terror, we'll think of something.", he booped your nose. "Perhaps we can use this as training!"

"Training?", you repeated.

"Yes! We'll use this as an opportunity!", Alastor said as he stood from the couch, turning to hold out a hand for you to take. "Come little one, there's much I have to teach you."

"Remember what I taught you little one!", Alastor says, fixing their coat. "Anything can be a weapon..."

"With enough force and creativity!", they said confidently.

"Correct!", his smile brightened. "Now, let's go show the ladies that you are a proper demon with manners so they feel bad for sending you out. Remember to look sad."

"Hmhmm!", the nod again before taking a deep breath, putting on their sad face and looking down at the floor.

"Perfect.", he approved before leading them by the hand down to the lobby.

Both of the girls were waiting by the entrance doors to say their goodbyes to the little demon.

"We are ready!", Alastor announces.

"Hey! We got them a-", Charlie starts before noticing the little demon's sad face. "..lunch box."

Vaggie squints at them but doesn't say anything.

Though the Radio Demon can see that his little one's sad face is affecting her as well, the moth demon clenching her fists.

"Now, what do we say mon petit?", the deer demon pats their back.

"I'm..", they say but don't look up yet. "I'm sorry for being bad and I'll go to school so..", finally they look up at the girls with little tears starting to well up. "Please don't be mad anymore."

Charlie is obviously affected the most and looks over at her partner, receiving a shake of the head from the white haired demon in response.

The princess takes a breath before handing over the lunch box to the little demon. "Its only for a little bit, alright?"

"Ok..", they say, still keeping up with the act before turning to face him. "Bye Alastor."

"It won't be for long, don't worry.", he 'reassures' them. "I'll pick you up when school is out."

They nod before hugging his side.

He pats them on the head before waving them goodbye as they walk out of the hotel and to the school bus.

Bidding the ladies adieu, Alastor lets his smile widen after turning away from the two, wondering how his little demon will cause chaos.

I can't wait to hear all about it~

*wipes away tears after typing out the fake crying* I was that child huh.

~Seline, the person.

Part 2

Taglist@

@willowaudreykeyes @kiraisastay @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @scary-noodlesblog @naelys-the-aster @ducky-died-inside @biromanticboba @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

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whumblr · 6 months

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Yes, yes, Whumpee being forced to dig their own grave, love it.

Now consider: Whumpee being forced to dig a grave. But it's not for them.

They don't know. Yet. So they get to work, snivelling, sobbing, pleading with every haul of sand they throw over their shoulder.

"Hush now, darling, this is not for you."

Whumpee glances up, tears in their eyes.

"It's for your cellmate," Whumper says with a wicked grin. He brings a finger to his lips. "Don't tell them yet. It's our secret."

Bonus: their cellmate is Caretaker

#whump #whump prompt #angst #implied murder #caretaker #whumplr #multiple whumpees #sadistic whumper #my prompts #my writing

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waddei · 10 months

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do you still have that shovel in your garage?

AU CONTEXT: roman amado is a pretty normal guy at least at first glance. he can't seem to keep any friendship for long though,his friendly exterior is a bit misleading, specially for the more sensitive people he seems to attract. he's troubled, more that he likes to admit, he often and very enthusiastically will let his emotions out through violence, whether that means starting fights with strangers near school or just destroying property. he often wanders of into the fields at the edge of town just to clear his head (or to rip out the grass)

tomas rossi is the definition of a social outcast, the only person he really talks to is his brother javier, and even then its no more than small talk over dinner. he's quiet, eerily so, people avoid him and he doesn't seek then out.he usually takes long walks alone at night when no one can bother him, he makes it a game to try and get lost in either the town or the fields around it.

IMAGE CONTEXT: after he “accidentally” kills the guy he was fighting (read:he bashed him against the ground multiple times ) roman calls his only real friend (tomas ) in a panic, not knowing what to do and afraid of the consequences (but not feeling particularly guilty) they decide to burry the body in a field outside town

tomas isnt thrilled about this, he doesnt show it but the whole “carrying a body” deal does disturb him quite a bit, still he doesnt call the police (he does however tell roman| never to call him for something like this again and he swears he wont , they both know its not gonna be the last time he does something like this)

#wadds art #ok now the trigger tags upssss #blood #corpses #death #implied murder #dead body #argieoc art #roman amado oc #tomas rossi oc

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rebar2042 · 1 year

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Wanna see more of his backstory

#a heist with markiplier #yancy #tw blood #cw blood #implied murder

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mara-xx217 · 1 month

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A Match Made in Hell- (A DBD Commission) Jed Olsen (Ghostface)/Reader

This was a paid commission! I hope you enjoy~

How could he think that you wouldn't learn this fact? How could you not think that he would learn the same about you? Really, you are a match made in hell...

Warnings: Serial Killings, Murder, Stalking, Arson, Murder, Super Toxic Relationship, Choking, Implied NSFW

You came across the find of the century. There was another on the turf of your home city serial killer. No matter what the police say and your newspaper prints, you know that it was someone else. A new face but someone that wasn’t new to the game. You had gotten a peek of a crime scene that the police had only just arrived at. Blood was everywhere but it wasn’t haphazard or sloppy, almost as if the killer had tried to make art out of their kill. You managed to snag a handful of photos before the police shoved you out of the way, calling you a ‘vulture’ as they threatened to arrest you should you obstruct them further. As much as you wished that you had gotten some better pictures, this was more than enough to prove without a shadow of a doubt that there was another murderer in Roseville.

“You… do realize that we can’t publish any of this, right?” The chief editor of the Roseville Gazette had a sickly pale green hue to his face as stared at the photographs you presented to him. Several of the other editors had to turn away, some shaking their heads and others leaving the room entirely as they claimed they had ‘other things’ to do. The giddy rush of your find was quickly soured as the chief editor flipped the photographs around, so that they faced the desk underneath them.

“W-Wha-? Are you being serious?! Do you have any idea of what this means? Doesn’t the public deserve to know just how dangerous the streets are-?!” The sudden wave of a hand has you silenced. Of everyone in the room nearly everyone seemed almost scared that you had brought such information inside of their building. What are they? Cowards or something?! There was only one person that didn’t seem perturbed by what you had shown them. Only one, and unsurprising to you, they were the one person that has irked you from the moment they set foot into your place of work.

“Just-! Get this shit off my desk and burn them for God’s sake! Jesus Christ-!” The chief editor sat back in his chair, looking exhausted.

“And get out of my office while you’re at it!”

You snorted as you picked up the photographs. You didn’t spare a moment before you stomped out, yanking the door open with enough force that it bounced off the wall behind it. As you took a step out of the chief editor’s office, your eyes locked onto the new guy’s, the one that you didn’t like for… whatever reason. For a fraction of a second, you saw… something. Whatever it was, it was over before you even had the chance to internalize it but in your core, you knew exactly what you saw.

A challenge…

What kind of challenge was it…? One between reporters? Or was it-?

It kept you up all night. There was a gnawing in the back of your head like a nagging question. It made the hairs on your body stand on end but it also made excitement pool in your gut. Could it be…? What would be the odds of such a thing? Low, almost improbable… But likely not impossible, right? You remember the interviews that the new guy had with two people that were killed by the new serial murderer- what was his name? Jed?- and remembered that they both were stalked and received phone calls and photographs of themselves from within their homes days before they were found killed in their homes. One was stabbed to death in the shower, ‘Psycho’ style and the other looked like they were surprised as they were cooking breakfast, their house nearly catching on fire from the unmonitored stovetop that was still on.

You got up after the clock struck two a.m. and glossed back over all the articles that the Roseville Gazette had published over the past few months. Indeed, all of them were written as though the same killer had perpetuated all the recent hot topic murders in the city. You frowned at the fact that all the articles that you had written were nowhere to be found. Actually… the more that you read, the more that you realized that all the articles on the new murders were written by the same reporter. You quirked a brow. Oh?

Now this is interesting…

As you looked over more and more articles, the hairs on the back of your neck began to rise. A thrill ran down your spine and pooled in your gut. You just knew that something was going to happen. What, you didn’t know, but whatever it would be, it would be exciting. You sat back in your chair and waited, exhaling sharply through your nose as you stared at your cell phone that was resting on the table in front of you. You knew this guy’s type very well.

He’ll call you, without a doubt.

Unsurprisingly, your phone began to ring. This asshole is probably watching you as you sit at your kitchen table… If he wasn’t watching you through a crack in your blinds, then he was likely inside of your house. As excited as you were, you couldn’t help but to feel a wave of apprehension washing over you at the thought of this creep being in your house. What was he? A dirty pervert? You scoffed to yourself and picked up your phone, answering it with your name.

“....” There was soft breathing on the other end of the phone. You felt your eyes nearly roll out of your skull as you listened, leaning back further and propping your feet up on your table.

“Sweetie, if this call isn’t going to contain some ‘Black Christmas’ level of obscene caller shenanigans then I’m not interested.” You quirked a brow as you heard a snort then a short bark of laughter.

“Well, well! I’ve never had that kind of reaction before!” The man on the other side sounded totally unfamiliar to you. His voice was deep and smooth, almost a purr as he was no doubt staring at you lounging in your dining room.

“Hmph, perhpas… I think that you’re just the rest.” You could hear the squeak of leather on the other side of the line.

“Oh? Like what?” You sighed heavily as you inspected your fingernails.

“Disappointing.” There was a pause on the other end of the line, as though the new Ripper of Roseville was genuinely surprised. Everything about you screamed that you were bored: your posture, your voice, your sheer nonchalance in the face of someone that you knew was stalking you and who was incredibly dangerous and no doubt homicidal. It was…

“Hmm…~ I want to play a game.” The man’s voice was as smooth as it was at the beginning of the call. He was judging your reaction, wondering if what he was seeing was real or if you were going to be another disappointment for him.

“A game? No, I don’t think so-”

“C’mon… What’s the harm in a little game?”

“If it’s not ‘what are you wearing’ then I’m not interested.” Again, the squeak of leather hit your ears. To say that your own pulse wasn’t quickening and that heat wasn’t pooling in between your thighs would be an outright lie. Many men have tried to play a dangerous game but they always pussied out just as it was getting good.

You just knew that this one would be different.

“I like how you think.” The man’s breathing was slightly laboured, as though he was out of breath.

“Are you already jerking off, you little pervert?” You let one of your legs slip off your dining room table, revealing the nice lace panties that you had worn to bed. It wasn’t like you were expecting such a thing to happen. No! Not at all… Not at all…

“Aw, you aren’t wearing the red ones? What a shame…” Your heart skipped a beat. An electric pulse shoots through your body as you hold your breath.

So he can see you…

“Those are my favourites… Red really suits you-” From your cracked bedroom door, something was thrown out of the darkness. You yelped and jumped, nearly falling backwards in your chair from surprise. A pile of what sounded like paper was thrown, whipping all over the floor of your living room. No, wait- Not paper.

Photographs.

“-just like blood.” His laughter made your heart pound in your ears. You shot up from your chair and snatched a kitchen knife from the knife block in your kitchen. As you stormed towards your bedroom, the photographs caught your eye. T-That’s-!!!

Unsurprisingly, there was no one in your bedroom when you kicked your door open. No one was in the bathroom, in your closet or underneath your bed… Son of a bitch-! Your breaths come out in short bursts as you throw your bedroom door back open, it bouncing off the wall behind it and likely creating a dent. Your eyes were trained on the pictures strewn across the floor. You already knew what was on them but you were still hoping that you weren’t that sloppy-

“GODDAMN IT-!!!”

The knife flew out of your hand and clattered to the floor across your home. How could you be so fucking careless?! That- That fucking asshole-! He-! H-He had fucking-! Your fingers trembled in rage as you quickly collected all the photographs. None of the photos had your face in them but they were damning. If this asshole is using them as blackmail, then he knows- One of the pictures especially caught your eye, one that did show your face. Your breathing hitched and caught in the back of your throat as you looked at yourself, masturbating beside- b-beside- a-and covered in- i-in-

These weren’t the only photos of you, you were certain of that. You were about to burn them but… Shit, you’ve got a serious problem. As damning of evidence this was, you just… couldn’t destroy them. You felt a sick, twisted sense of pride as you looked over them more and more. Wow, he had actually captured you wonderfully… You aren’t sure what you were feeling at the moment. Anger? Definitely. Rage? Absolutely. Flattered? Y-Yeah… Turned on? W-Well…

You dragged your feet on deciding whether or not you wanted to go back to work or if you were going straight over to that asshole’s house and killing him for getting involved in your business. Actually, there are many different reasons why you wanted to kill Jed Olsen: for stealing your promotion at the Roseville Gazette, for being a creep, for being an all around piece of shit, for trespassing on your turf-

“Hey-” You didn’t immediately look up from your work to answer him. You continued typing for some time, slowly tearing your eyes away from your work as you looked up at him with a scowl.

“What?” God, you hated how much more attractive you’ve found Jed after learning the truth about him. His face was smug and confident, punchable and kissable-

“Now, is that any way to talk to a partner?” You felt your ears heat up as he leaned against your desk. He licked his lips as he looked you over.

“You’re going to get some coffee with me.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“What’s the magic word, jerkwa-” The words were choked in your throat as Jed grabbed you by the throat. Your eyes went wide, not wide like his other victims, but still showing your surprise plainly. He felt your pulse throb beneath his fingers and he pressed into it with enough force to make your face turn red.

“Coffee. You. Me. Got it?” Jed’s thumb pressed against your lower lip, calloused from working with his hands for the majority of his life. Your tongue reflexively flicked out, gently trailing against his thumb. You don’t think he was expecting this, as his grip relaxed for a fraction of a second before it became so tight that you felt something pop in your throat.

“You fucking slut-” The look on his face was dark and there was no warmth in his smile. He forced you to lean up as he leaned down, meeting you halfway.

“What do you say we burn this shithole to the ground and get the fuck out of this town, hmm?” There was a dark violence in his eyes that you were intimately familiar with. You had often seen them staring back at you in the mirror whenever you were washing the blood off your body after a successful hunt-

“G-Go w-where?~ H-Huuuh-?~” You were getting light headed from lack of oxygen but you were still acutely aware of what was happening around you. Your coworkers were going about their daily routines, totally unaware that you were talking to another coworker that was actively strangling you as the two of you talked about killing them all. They were so stupid it pissed you off.

It’s just natural selection at this point if they are killed-

“Anywhere… Just me and you…” A soft wheeze escaped from between your lips as your airway was crushed in Jed’s palm. There was a crossroads that was forming before you: say ‘yes’ and your life is over as you know it or say ‘no’ and your life is over as you know it.

Fuck, how can you pass up the opportunity to go out with a ‘bang’?

Your body was still sore from when Jed had dragged you to the supply closet at work. Fuck, how did no one hear the two of you?! He was not gentle with you and even though you were able to hold your screams of pain and pleasure at bay, the sound of your body being repeatedly banged against the closet wall as Jed fucked your brains out. Ah- You keep calling him ‘Jed’, even though you’ve known for a while that it was merely an alias for him. Danny… It’s something that you could get used to saying. Or maybe you should say screaming his name…

It was so spur of the moment for you… for you both. Spontaneity was something you and Danny both were known for but pure impulsiveness? Well, maybe you both had been lying to yourselves. It’s much easier to do stupid, dangerous things when you have an equally dangerous and stupid person encouraging you to go further and further, until you both had two canisters filled with gasoline each and you both had broken into the Roseville Gazette and doused the whole place. One small spark would be enough to engulf the entire building…

What a shame your ex-chief editor was locked in the supply closet…

The Roseville Gazette went up in flames within seconds. The heat of the flames exploded outwards, engulfing both you and Danny within its harsh light. The two of you were dressed in your murderous best: black and masked as you both heard your ex-chief editor screaming from within the hot inferno. Your entire body was trembling with excitement as the fire continued to rage hotter and hotter. It could spread to other buildings if things keep up… God, you fucking hoped that it did. You fucking hate this place and you guess that Danny did too, because he was just as turned on as you were as the screams of agony died down from within the destroyed Roseville Gazette.

“Ha… Ha… F-Fuck-” You pulled off your mask and your face was flushed. You’ve never committed arson before… It felt pretty damn good, even if the smell of gasoline stuck to your clothing and skin. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Danny pull his own mask off, your eyes going wide as you felt him grab a fistful of your hair and yank your head backwards. As he pulled you into a passionate kiss.

It was all tongue and teeth… You moaned as you felt your teeth bounce off of his, nipping at his lower lip and at the tongue that forced its way into your open mouth. Danny’s kiss was wet and overpowering but you wouldn’t let him win easily. You bit him hard enough to draw blood but instead of instantly pulling away, he moaned and kissed you even deeper.

It left you breathless, even after he began to pull away. Even though you knew that the two of you shouldn’t be sticking around for much longer, you wanted to watch the Gazette continue to burn. This had to be the stupidest thing that you have ever done in your entire life, and you are including going to work for a newspaper that was in your active killing grounds. You always got hot and bothered when you reported on your own murders and you guessed that Danny was the same way with his own. He had grabbed you by the neck and was dragging you back towards the car that he had used to drive you both around for the night. You knew exactly what he had in mind, which was the only reason why you weren’t fighting him every step of the way. He’s the only man that’s ever made you sore after doing the deed…

@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @slutwithadegree, @dead-bxxxtch-walking, @space-arsonist, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine, @memoryofheather, @horny-3

#dead by daylight #dbd #dbd x reader #dbd ghostface #dbd danny johnson #jed olsen #dbd ghostface x reader #paid commission #stalking #implied murder #arson #toxic relationship #choking

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