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charliedawn · 1 year

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How would the slashers or the Hannibal family react to their partner being stressed due to college?

When you came home and almost collapsed in the living room, Hannibal Jr. caught you in his arms.

He was worried about you and laid you down, patiently waiting for you to wake up.

When you finally did, you didn't notice when you started crying until you started talking—your voice shaking by the amount of stress you were under.

"...I'm so tired. I'm not sure I can keep it up. The endless sleepless nights. The tests raining on my head. The days I can't even get up because I'm so tired my whole body shuts down. I am so very tired...I can't do this. I'm not strong enough."

He gathered you in his arms and shushed you softly before placing a kiss on the top of your head.

"You are strong enough, love. I promise you."

He never felt such stress for school because he usually always aced all of his tests with high honors.

He even used to think that the reason some people were struggling was because they didn't work enough.

But, now that he saw how difficult it was for you ? He is starting to reconsider his opinion on the matter.

He'd help you and make you revise and give you all the advice he can give you on how to study efficiently.

You *smile widely as you come back home with a good grade* : "I DID IT !"

Hannibal Jr. smiled up at you and invited you to seat on his lap while you pointed all of the nice comments your teacher had written on your paper.

He watched as your eyes brightened and your whole demeanor seemed so different from a few months ago.

He rested his chin on your shoulder while your voice started to fade away and before he knew you it...he was asleep.

Looks like studying with you had taken its toll on him as well...You noticed and smiled before settling back and started dozing off as well.

When he saw you crying, Norman's heart did a somersault.

He immediately asked what was wrong and when you told him you were tired of school, he pulled you into a tight hug.

"You succeeded in getting there. Plod on, darling. You'll get there. I'm sure of it."

He doesn't like to see you cry and would try his best to comfort you.

Norman did go to college and attended management classes to get better at his job as hotel manager.

It took a lot of time and energy for him to get through all those years of intense training. So, he'd understand—but encourage you to do your best and keep going.

He'd also try to help you by studying with you and helping you remember the most important things.

He'd also cook for you and make sure you get a nice quiet place to study.

Norman would make sure you succeed and tell you every minute of every day how proud he is of you and give you all the love and affection you need.

Norman *humming to himself while waiting for you to get home*

You *slamming the door open and running in to hug him from behind* : "I DID IT, NORMAN !"

It took him a second or two to realize what you meant and once he understood, he smiled and hugged you back.

"I am so proud of you, my little monster."

"Stop overthinking things. It ain't good."

He told you, but you ignored him. You had work to do and didn't want to be disturbed.

Freddy would normally understand and leave you alone, since he knows it's better to stay away when you got work to do.

But, he didn't this time around.

"We going to party tonight.", he told you and you frowned.

"Freddy...I got work to do."

You reminded him, but he shook his head before closing your computer.

"Let me rephrase that. Either we go out and have fun—or I find myself a nice bunch of nice innocent virgins and make a blood sacrifice to...me."

You glared at him again, but finally conceded with a sigh. You knew he was only trying to cheer you up.

"Fine...But, I ain't paying for you. I got enough worries as it is.", you warned him before grabbing your bag on your way out and Freddy grinned victoriously.

"I'm treatin'. Now, stop your yapping and let's get drunk."

Worse case scenario ? He'd get you so drunk as to accept to quit your studies and become a stripper.

He would maybe be your only client, but as he can literally summon money from dreams, you'd have an endless source of income...

School ? That's what you were so concerned about ?

Myers didn't understand, but Michael did and decided to start reading about your subject.

Finally, he decided to help you and it was a lot easier when you were both working on it.

You explained things he didn't understand and it helped you have a better understanding of your subject as well.

Michael *points to something he didn't understand on the book you were reading*

You *start explaining it to him with a smile*

Him *focused on your smile rather than on your words and smiles as well*

He would make sure that smile never fades, no matter what...

He helped you and every time you had a test, he was there to pick you up and listen to you about your day and wherever had happened—that it'd be good or bad.

You *smile up at him* : "...Michael."

Him *looks up at you and sees you with tears in your eyes and immediately worries*

You *run into his arms* : "Thank you...Thank you so much."

He relaxed when he realized you weren't hurt and wrapped his arms around you.

Jack woke up and prepared himself a cup of coffee at 6 am and almost jumped out of his skin when he saw you there—your computer on your lap and glassy red eyes staring at the screen.

You slowly looked up at him with tears in your eyes and offered him a weak smile.

"....Would you get me a cup too ?"

Your voice was so soft and weak, Jack felt his heart squeeze.

"....Aww, honey." He crouched in front of you and lightly stroked your arms up and down—feeling your cold asking underneath his fingertips. "You can't stay up like that. It's not good. That's just nuts."

You were on the verge of collapsing and it seemed Jack's touch was the one things needed for you to break.

You suddenly fell forward and Jack caught you on his arms.

"Ssh...Come on. Let's get you to bed, darling."

He then picked you up in his arms and glared at your computer.

He was going to have a serious conversation with your teachers and the administration. Jack may use his few connections in the academic cycle to get a few things straight with that college of yours.

He'd also help you if your subject is anything related to the literary world.

You *come back from your next test with a bright smile on your face* : "I...I did it, Jack. I did it."

Jack's eyes widened as a smile crept on his face—but he quickly hid it behind a very exaggerated cough and a nonchalant shrug.

"Yeah yeah...I always knew you could do it."

"You' in college, Y/N ! Can you imagine ? How cool's that ?!"

Lester would be in awe. The man never even left Ambrose. He'd bathe you in praises and tell you how proud he is of you.

He'd also give you all the moral support you need and even bring you and pick you up from college everyday just to see you smile.

He'd be there for your worst and your best—no matter what.

You *come back home crying* : "...I failed."

Him *hugs you immediately* : "Doesn't matter. It's OK, doll. It's only a bad grade. I'll ask Bo or Vinny to help ya'. I'll...I'll ask around for sum' private teach' or sumthin'. Just...Please. Don't cry."

Lester would do anything for you. He maybe wouldn't be able to help you with your studying, but he'd find some other way to help.

Lester *phones every single teacher out there to give you private lessons*

He'd also have a meeting with your teacher and ask them if there's anything he can do to help you. Lester may not be the brain of the Sinclairs, but he's definitely the heart.

You *the day of the final results* : "Lester..."

You uttered his name so softly, he thought you hadn't succeeded and was about to give you all the comfort you needed when you looked up at him and smiled.

"...I passed."

It took a moment for Lester to realize what you had just said and he immediately ran to hug you tightly—spinning you around as you giggled gleefully.

"YOU PASSED ! YOU PASSED !"

He was so happy for you.

"Fuck me. This is b*llsh*t. How can you even read that sh*t ?!"

Bo would just throw every insult known to man at your lessons and curse the whole school system in colorful 'damns' and 'f*ck y'alls'

He might not be able to help you, but he'll be sure to complain and despair alongside you.

He'd sit next to you—his leg bouncing up and down with each second passing as he tried to make head or tail of your course plan.

"I swear I'd have quit the whole thing a long time ago if I were you. I mean...Look at this ?! Is this even fuckin' English ?!"

Seeing Bo actually even more upset on your course than yourself made you feel a lot better and even laugh.

"Wha—?! What's so funny ?! I'm serious !"

He'd spend nights studying with you and let you knock his ears off about your studies while working at the garage.

"BO !"

He looked up at you and thought you were upset at him for some reason, but you then grinned wildly before showing him your grade.

"I FUCKIN' DID IT !"

Him *blinks twice before giving you a matching grin and opening his arms wide to catch you when you hugged him" : "I KNEW IT ! I FUCKIN' KNEW IT ! THAT'S MY GIRL/BOY !"

Pennywise is street smart, not book smart. He never went to school.

School didn't even exist when he was born, even less college.

But, he'd try for you.

But at the end, he'd help you cheat instead.

During a test: transforms into a fly and flies to the best student's shoulder to get a look at his answers and they whisper them to you when no one is looking.

Or, he'd just give a little visit to your teacher the night before and give them a little reminder of what happens when Pennywise is angry...

Yeah. Don't worry about grades.

As long as he's here, you'll always have someone to help you and watch out for everything that might hurt you.

He wouldn't let you down and would encourage you the best he can.

"...You impress me, kid. Even when things get tough, you keep walking forward. That makes you tougher than any of us—even me."

"....Ah."

Kevin never had that problem, because he had Orwell and the moment school was too much, he would appear and do the work.

So, Orwell would help you.

Orwell *looks at the paper in his hand and looks at all the corrections before smiling* : "Ah...I see. Come. I'll explain it to you."

Orwell *starts helping you and scoots a little closer to show you each of your mistake and take the time to make you correct them or rephrase*

Orwell wouldn't let you leave unless you've memorized every single word on your next lesson. He'd make sure to help you until the end and become personally invested in your success.

Orwell *waiting for you outside of your school to see you and ask how it went*

You *smiling and running to hug him* : "Thank you so much for helping me. I knew every answer on the test."

Orwell *stunned because no one ever hugged him* : "You're...welcome" *pat pat on the back*

Orwell would be very proud inside and the other personalities would congratulate you too.

But, Orwell would then ramble on how you hadn't yelled at him when you were studying together and actually listened.

Even Kevin had never been so attentive.

It would earn him some taunting from the other personalities.

Patricia *smiles knowingly* : "You really like them, don't you ?"

Hedwig *gasps loudly* : "MISTER ORWELL HAS A CRUSH !"

Dennis : "Be careful. It could be a trap."

Jade *rolls her eyes* : "Stoooop it, Dennis. For once, glasses shows feelings. Respect that."

Kevin *smiles sheepishly* : "N...Nice. I'm sure they like you too."

Orwell *blushes and shakes his head before trying to cover his ears*

"Huh...Let me get back to you when I've got an answer."

Two days later: news started spreading that your school had 'mysteriously' caught on fire.

You waited for J to come home and when he did, he was carrying a flamethrower and was covered in ashes.

"So...I thought a lot about it and found the perfect solution."

"....J." You pinched the bridge of your nose in exhaustion before J sighed and threw the flamethrower on your shared coach.

"Before you say anything, you're welcome."

You looked up at him with narrowed eyes and asked.

"...Was anyone inside ?"

"...Would I get in trouble if I said yes ?"

Your brow furrowed and he chuckled before shaking his head and cupping your cheeks to look you in the eyes.

"Relax, sweetheart. Smile. No one was inside. I made sure of it...I just gained you a little bit of time to spend with me."

You finally relaxed under his touch and smiled.

"...You're crazy."

He knew you were joking and chuckled before pressing his forehead against yours.

"...Yeah. I'll get back to you when I've got a solution for that one too."

You finally laughed. J was maybe crazy, but somehow...You had managed to get him all wrapped up around your little finger.

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #michael myers x reader #jack torrance x reader #bo sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #pennywise x reader #norman bates x reader #hannibal x reader #hannibal jr #freddy krueger x reader #the horde x reader #orwell x reader #the joker x reader #slashers au #slashers

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slashingdisneypasta · 1 year

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Older!Horror Villains x Younger!Reader || Reactions

Reacting to: Someone at the store thinking that they're your grandparent- rather then your S/O. (Just something funny I was considering for Inkubus but decided to just do for all of them ^^ XD 😅)

Characters Included: The gilfs of the fandom 😅 ? I'm thinking 50 years and above. Captain Spaulding, Drayton Sawyer, Granny Boone, Inkubus, Jedidiah Sawyer, Luda Mae Hewitt, Mayor Buckman, Mental Manny / Manual Dyer, Peepaw Michael Myers, Norman Nordstrom, Otis B. Driftwood, Pamela Voorhees, Sheriff Hoyt / Charlie Hewitt Jr, Stuart Lloyd, the Taxidermist / Walter Harris and Winslow Foxworth Coltrane.

Warnings: Major age difference, bad language, sexual references, a really awkward misunderstanding...

Captain Spaulding: Spaulding's a pretty good sport about it XD In fact, he kinda enjoys it. Cuz then he gets to rub it in the persons face what a young, hot thing he's got going here with you and what- what did you say you had again?? Nothin'?? Yeahh, that's what I thought. Fuck right off, why dontcha?

Drayton Sawyer: Drayton goes so red and is about to blow his top. He gets enough shit from his brothers over this! He does not need one more moron bothering him about it! Fuck off! *Grabs you by the arm and storms off*

Granny Boone: "... Grandma, huh? Alright then!~ " *Turns to you* "Come here, sweetie, give grandmother a kiss~ " She's about to ruin that guys whole career 😅😅😅

Inkubus: Inkubus is not amused. Grandpa?? Absolutely not, no. He'll correct the person in the most embarrassing way possible.

Jedidiah Sawyer: Jed does not care at all 😅😅 The only person who's opinion matters to him is yours, so who cares if this guy thinks he's your grandpa? Fine then, he's your grandpa. So go and mow the lawn for him while he sits on the porch and has a sweet tea.

Luda Mae Hewitt: She's is gonna tear that guy a new one. Calling her old?? Son of a bitch, where is that persons manners?? She should set her damn sons on him.

Mayor Buckman: Sorry, Buckman cannot answer this question. He's too busy choking.

Mental Manny / Manual Dyer: Manny loves to correct people. He's got the biggest smile on his face as he goes oh you're mistaken- this is my beautiful partner. A little young, sure, but we sure don't mind~ Oh sweetheart, I think we're going be late for our dinner reservations. Shall we?

Peepaw Michael Myers: Like Jed he struggles to give a shit. Who cares??? He knows that he's not your grandfather and you know he's not your grandfather- that's all that matters. He doesn't care... but he does enjoy giving you a big kiss, with tongue, later when the guy sees you both again. He's a gremlin.

Norman Nordstrom: ... what? Norman is pissed at this idea, he hates it. He feels like a digusting predator (*cough* which he is, though not because you like him ^^) and it hits close to home. He's going to need you to set it straight.

Otis B. Driftwood: "... Ha! Okay, pal, check this out." He'll say, then turn around and basically make out with you right there in front of the guy. Otis is not amused at the poor insinuation and takes it out with lewd efficiency.

Pamela Voorhees: Again- not amused. As far as she's concerned, this total stranger has no business making disgusting insinuations about the two of you, anyway. So she'll ruthlessly take them down a notch with her words- and sweet smile.

Sheriff Hoyt / Charlie Hewitt Jr: "... you think you're funny? No I ain't their fucken grandpa. Didn't your bitch momma ever teach you to mind your business? Oh don't you worry, I can do it for her." Just- my friend- just keep him from taking out the damn shot gun.

Stuart Lloyd: "... oh... uh... n-no, actually- " Stuart forces himself to stutter through a quick explanation- but he wants to crawl into a whole and die (:

Taxidermist / Walter Harris: Gets the nervous giggles 😅😅😅 Doesn't correct them.

Winslow Foxworth Coltrane: Annnnd Foxy loves it XD He was already one kinky mother fucker- you can use this as foreplay. Let him smack your ass while they're still looking but call you 'Hon' or 'Sweetie'- he finds it funny and hot in equal measures.

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sunshine-and-moonshine · 1 year

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Dbd - Ball Kick

Requested: Yes! [This prob sounds weird as shit but could we get killers reactions to the reader kicking them in the nuts to get away?]

Warnings: Crotch Stomping, Child Abuse, Michael’s kinda aroused

A/N: I want you to know that I laughed when I saw this request. And there’s never anything too weird for me!

Danny

Danny’s balls are SENSITIVE so please know that even a light kick will end with him on the floor, wheezing in pain. And due to the sensitivity, he’s going to take this the worst out of any of the killers, face-camping and hard tunneling you in every trial for the next….maybe 100 trials against you. He’s holding this grudge for a long long time and will make life miserable for you. Outside of trials he’s not so bad since the Entity physically won’t let him kill you, but that doesn’t mean he won’t be a little shit. One day he’ll corner you in the woods outside the campfire, stripping you of your pants as he tosses you to the forest floor, where he will proceed to STOMP on your crotch until you’re screaming and crying and then eventually just numb.

Max

Crying. Instantly crying. Doesn’t even hurt that bad for him, as it’s not the first time someone has kicked him there, well used to blows to sensitive places during his time locked away by his parents. Which is exactly what you are giving him flashbacks to at this moment. His cries turn to sobs, curling up on the ground, hands and arms trying to protect his head, like you’ll start kicking there next.

Michael

Alert! Alert! Not working! NOT WORKING! This guy has balls of STEEL, and didn’t even feel it. Probably didn’t even realize what you were trying to do until he finished putting you on the hook, proceeding to shake his head at you in disapproval. You’re welcome to try again though, he thinks your desperate attempts to get away are quite hilarious and….exciting, though he doesn’t show that in any external way.

#dbd #dead by daylight #danny johnson #danny johnson x reader #Ghostface #Ghostface x reader #max thompson jr #max thompson jr x reader #Michael Myers #Michael Myers x reader #halloween movie

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phonkscribes · 1 year

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Dead Last.

You live by a code most would abandon in these circumstances, where death isn’t an escape and a nameless goddess hungers. It’s a rare trait to find amongst people, especially those that have died time and time again. When the gates are powered and you’re abandoned by your peers, you don’t think that anyone would notice. Let alone the people that put you in that spot.

Assorted killers reacting to an abandoned reader.

Legion / Frank Morrison

Legion is as thick as nails, nothing can get between them, even if things got rough. That much was true on that night in the store when they took turns killing that janitor. He’s disappointed to see that your ‘team’ won’t extend a hand to save one of their own like how the Legion would to him. Ace runs out the door, not even looking back as you lay on the cold floor of Ormond.

“I bet that hurts real bad”, he teases, putting a foot on your back to keep you from struggling.

He wants to hear what you’ll say in response, to see how you’ll beg or plead for your life. You’re whimpering, crying— he can see the steam rise from your cheeks. The pain he’s talking about isn’t physical, but you’re trying your best to hold it in. In some ways, he could feel for you, in others he could not. That’s just how things are around here. You stick your neck out for someone and then it gets you killed.

“That’s what happens when you try and play hero, dumbass”, he grabs you, hoisting you up and over his shoulder.

He has a quota to meet, a number to fill so that bitch in the sky doesn’t give him or any of his friends shit later. He doesn’t feel bad for putting you on the hook, watching as the claws sink into your sides as you die. Although he does feel… something. The next trial that you see him he doesn’t bother you so much, choosing to hit you while he’s in his frenzy before leaving to find the bigger fish. If Ace happens to be with you, he’s sure to tunnel him out.

It’s his way of being nice, hoping you don’t catch on when he does this one thing.

The Ghostface / Danny Johnson

You’d been running with Yun-Jin towards the gates as the timer ticked down. She’d been right at your side until she hadn’t. As you went to look over your shoulder he was right there. The ribbons on his hood billowed as he cut through the night, breaking his shroud as he tore into your side. You’d been exposed and you didn’t even notice, nor did the producer bother to tell you. As Danny wipes his blade he looks down at you pitifully, tutting I’m disappointment as your fellow survivor left you for dead.

“You should’ve seen your face”, he taunts, chuckling as you try and recover, “But that was fun”

You sit there, gasping for air as he squats down to pat your shoulder, which has a hook shaped hole through it. You cry out from the pain, but he coos, as if there was an adorable puppy before him and not your sweaty, bleeding body.

“Isn’t that tough?”, he picks you up and starts walking.

You’re sure you’re dead, not bothering to struggle as you sniffle. It tugs at his heartstrings, it really does. You’re lucky he thinks you’re so cute! Otherwise, he’d have killed you a lot sooner, which he probably should’ve done to that bitch Yun-Jin! He walks along, straining his ears as you try and not to cry at your defeat. The hatch is near as the two of you pick up on the sound of the angelic singing. The Ghostface sets you down just in front of it.

“Since I’m feeling generous… just this once, I’ll let you go”, hope starts to seep through that look of despair etched onto your features. It stirs something within him.

You start to crawl, pulling yourself forward as he thinks about shutting it in your face. How would you look if he stole away your only means of escape? Danny wants to see what that’d look like, the terror reinstalled in your eyes as you inch closer and closer.

“Th- Thank you..”, you tell him, looking up into the eyes of the mask.

Ah… next time. Definitely next time.

Hillbilly / Max Thompson Jr.

He’d caught you by the shack, using his saw to cut through your middle as Dwight had made the mistake of throwing the pallet down to block your path. It was a mistake, he’d heard the saw and reacted when he saw the red stain. The look of regret is as plain as day as he runs, pain struck across his face as he leaves you behind. Max didn’t think much of survivors, but he could understand better than anyone what it felt like to be caught and punished rather than betrayed. He watched Fairfield leave as your blood spilled all across the wooden floorboards. The sounds of your panicked, frustrated breaths mixing with his labored growls filled the air.

So that’s it eh?

He looks down at you, waiting to see how you might react, if you’d yell or cry out. With the leader gone, it was just you left. If he put you on the hook, you’d die, as simple as that. He moves, stepping over your body to break the pallet. The wood splinters as it falls, collecting besides you as he goes to pick you up. It’s not uncommon, he’s seen it happen before a thousand times but it’s always so… he doesn’t know the words to place it. You didn’t deserve that, he reasons. Max carries you off to the gate where he saw the scratch marks fade off to.

He’s says something, tries to at least, but is unable to. It comes out as a small grunt, as he picks you up. You wonder why he’s being so nice. Usually he’s so intent on getting people off the farm and into the next match. You pat his back, a quiet thank you as he gently drops you off on the floor. He doesn’t say anything, just watches, revving up his chainsaw to carry him off to go close the hatch if he can find it.

He thinks you’re cool, like a hero from one of his shows. You’re too kind to kill, too brave, too good. He’d have felt better about doing it if you were a scum bag.

Pig / Amanda Young

You tried your best to keep everyone alive, but no amount of heals or pallets can prevent the inevitable. It’s not that they didn’t try. All of you try, fighting to stay alive in the face of cruelty, but alas. The reverse bear traps didn’t find them to be agreeable. Either your friends fell victim to the saw trap or to the blade of Miss Amanda Young. You’re the only one who managed to get the trap off in time, so by Amanda’a standards, you’ve earned your life. That didn’t stop you from trying to save your friends from their graves.

At the end, she meets you in her workshop, eyeing you curiously. There was no favoritism, no second chances aside from the one you got. They all had every opportunity to survive and failed. Watching you now, she feels a shred of sympathy. A few years ago, she was the same just like you, eyes wide and afraid of dying. You’ve earned your life, proven by the lack of a trap on your head. She beckons you to follow her, as she already knows a way out.

“Don’t think too hard about it”, she says, noting your apprehension to follow her like a good survivor.

She’s indifferent for the most part, with the slightest hint of being proud of you. You may not be disciple worthy, but you held quite a bit of promise in her eyes. Should you ever turn to the dark side, she’d love to mentor you. You jump through the hatch as she waves goodbye, silent as she studies the expression on your face as you depart.

Shape / Michael Myers

You were the obsession this trial, and as much as he would’ve loved to kill you just then and there, he knew it’d serve him better to let you go. There were so many times where he could’ve just offed you had he felt like it. Though evil personified had other plans, such as dealing with the gnats flying around you. They really were just flies, swarming you when they needed help, when their wounds couldn’t be staunched caused by his knife. Picking them off one by one wasn’t hard, with how quickly he was able to catch up to them as they worked hard to complete their tasks. He reveled in the way that you watched their bodies hit the floor. You were next.

You were next and there was nothing you could do to stop it. As the last survivor, he was more than eager to track you down, playing the same game he played with his little sister. He stalked you through the halls of his childhood home, you sprinted up the stairs and towards the window, but he was faster. The shape was content with the way your throat fit in his hand when he held you up and pinned you to the wall. You slammed back quite nicely, your grunt of pain being drowned out by a scream.

The wet squelch of your guts wet his hand, your blood dripping down from the hilt and making the handle sticky. He didn’t mind, didn’t seem to care as he watched you with interest. Your death seemed to fascinate him almost as he pushed it deeper into your struggling body. He set you down when you were done, finally done with this trial. Somehow… he liked it. The way you squirmed, how you didn’t quite accept it as it was happening. He’ll be sure to save you for last the next time he sees you.

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saturnville · 1 year

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make luv universe

— the first love

pairing: tariq st. patrick x black!fem!oc (imaan).

warning: none.

prompt: "can I love you in your love language?”

tags: @neeville @neewrites + anyone else w/ a love for tariq :)

“What’s your love language?

Physical touch. The primary way he enjoyed to receive love. His mother and grandmother were affectionate, his father, not so much. Having being hugged and kissed on growing up, it was something he grew to adore.

He’d been in other relationships and situation ships before,m and struggled to find a sense of appreciation. Not because of purposeful ignorance on their end, but because they tried to show affection in ways he struggled to receive. They didn’t learn how to love him. So, when Imaan wrapped her arms around his torso, head rested against his back, and muttered those words into his shirt, his heart grew three sizes.

“Can I love you in your love language?”

“Yes.”

[…]

He enjoyed her hands on him. Not only in a sexual way, either. The way her fingertips traced the ridges of his build, how her palm rested on his back when they stood side by side and he would get overwhelmed. That was how he found himself laid on his stomach with his head against a pillow and his arms tucked underneath it. She’d offered him a massage.

Imaan hummed along to the soft melodies of Xscape as she kneaded the tension out of his body. The mood was set to that of mellow relaxation. The lights were off. His college dorm illuminated by the streetlights of the city. The hustle and bustle of nightlight harmonized with the vocalists’ song that bled out of his television.

He slipped into a place of unconsciousness for a moment. The pressure of her palms and the gentle caressing of his skin by her manicured fingers sent him into a dimension he’d never been before. One filled with quietness and stillness. Where he laid peacefully lillipads of peace that drifted down streams of joy.

She instructed him to turn over. Tariq’s hands cupped her the thick thighs that bracketed his hips. The action alone made her clench above him. His eyes met hers. Imaan smiled innocently rubbed along his chest slowly and meticulously. Her fingers caught his chain and she tugged on it teasingly.

“Careful,” Tariq muttered. Imaan raised an eyebrow and lowered her body. Her chest, covered by a thin t-shirt, hovered above his. And her lips, God, her lips ghosted over his. Again, she tugged on the expensive piece of jewelry against his brown skin. “You’re a tease.”

“Do somethin’ about it,” Imaan replied lowly. Her eyes had deepened in color and her tone was laced with lust and desire. “If you really bout it.”

Tariq grabbed her neck and kissed her. “Lay back, baby.”

[…]

Love making was an act of poetry. A physical manifestation of literary desire and expression. If ever given the opportunity to sit with a sheet of paper and a pencil, oh how’d he recall his favorite expression of art. The art of making love.

The clenching over her heat around him was a trap he willfully walked into. No blindfold was needed to take a step over the edge and into a deep, wet abyss he would drown in forever.

Her song was different every time. A range of octaves and pitches yet somehow still angelic and beautiful that he’d allow it to play on repeat at every opportunity. And his favorite lyric, his name, came from her like a record-scratch stuck on a loop.

“I’m close, baby.” Imaan’s voice cracked as she reached her climax. Her face was buried in his neck and her legs shook around his waist. Tariq whispered sweet encouragements into her ear as he was brought to his end. “So good for me…”

[…]

“Thank you,” Tariq whispered into her hair. They laid chest-to-back in the petite college dorm bed. Imaan dropped her hand over his and entangled their fingers. She raised their hands and her lips brushed against his knuckles.

“Love you…”

#saturnville #original writing #original content #original characters #original story #black love #black!reader #fic inspo #tariq st. patrick #tariq st. patrick x black!reader #tariq x imaan #power #power book ii: ghost #michael rainey jr

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moosealecki · 2 months

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✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ okay I haven’t seen very many so I’m curious what people would like to see more of with the archangels. 👀

#supernatural #supernatural fan fic #Gabriel x reader #Gabriel spn fanfic #lucifer fanfiction #lucifer x reader #michael x reader #michael spn fan fic #spn fanfic #mark pellegrino #richard speight jr #jake abel #jared padalecki #jensen ackles

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call-sign-shark · 7 months

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Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: Danger lurks in every corner of Small Heath now, a place in which you're forced to stay. A place where Changretta and Section D are ready to get you. As you're trying to work things out with Arthur following your violent argument, Polly tells you something that will definitely complicate your role in the Vendetta.

Words: 6.8k

TW: Angst, mention of drug use, canonical violence, mention of murder, mention of self-harm, co-dependent relationship, grieving.

Notes:

✞ This is chapter 13 of the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes. Each chapter can be read as stand-alone but reading the whole series will make the experience far more intense and better.

✞ Quite a long chapter I admit, certainly the longer. The future chapters won't be as long I swear -- it's just that there was a lot of small "plot twists".

✞ Lucy is @emotionalcadaver's OC.

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT

The thick fog of the night danced in front of the car’s headlights, swirling at the wind’s discretion. The driver, keeping an eagle eye on your dainty silhouette, had started the engine as soon as he saw you storming out of your house, disheveled and crying. He only waited five seconds before driving at a very slow pace, scanning the misty streets of foul-smelling Small Heath to find you. For a short while, he was convinced you had managed to escape from his watch and, admittedly, the persistent fog only complicated the task further. “Fucking bitch”, he pestered, turning left on the next street as the car’s wheels squealed against the wet concrete of the road but you didn’t hear, far too deafened by the unremitting drumming of your own heart. You stopped your race near a field, and sat on a small wall, feeling your body wear out now that the adrenaline's effects were dispersing. Once settled, you buried your face in your cold palms and squeezed your eyes shut. Where should you go? What should you do? Were all of Arthur's promises empty? What will happen to your marriage now? Will Tommy keep ruining your life? All these questions played on repeat in your skull, like the unsettling loop of a broken record echoing in a murky abandoned house. And along the haunting tune resonated your and Arthur's voice, from a not-so-far memory.

"I'll marry you one day."

"You're already married, Arthur."

"I don't bloody care, it's you I want ay. Fook Linda, fook the family, fook the rest of the world. It's you. It has always been you."

A shiver ran down your spine as your mind went back to the night you had this conversation. You could almost feel the warm sensation of his naked skin against yours, as he cradled you to his chest, legs entangled, and his cologne all over your bedsheet. The first time you made love.

"Listen, I know you're scared and I know I’ve got a bad reputation. But if you give me the chance to be your man, I swear to God you'll be the only one for me. Look at ya. How could I want another woman? They can all die. I'll never, fucking never, cheat on you."

"But with Linda--"

"It ain't the same. We're talking about you. My sweet angel. My soul mate. My saving grace. The other part of me broken self."

"... Alright. Promise it then."

"Cross me heart and hope to die."

"No drugs either? Like, a bit of snow occasionally never killed anyone but apart from this, no relapse okay?"

"No drugs but..." He paused, gently taking your hand in his, and kissed all your fingers one by one "But in exchange I want ye to stop hurting yourself. I saw the inside of your thighs so please, no more cuts ay?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die." You smiled, interlocking your little fingers together in a sweet pinky promise.

You pressed one trembling hand against your mouth at the bittersweet memory, tears tingling your eyes and blurring your vision. A muffled sob escaped from your plumped lips, then a second, and finally tears came in waterfalls. It's been a long time since you really cried, and here you were. Weeping like a lost kid.

Despite the darkness of the night and the patchy coat of the fog, the stalker caught sight of the long crimson streaks that ran down one of your frail arms. He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue as his hand reached for the gun hidden in the glove box. Finally, he thought, he was a short moment away from a very sweet vengeance he had spent years carefully planning. A little excited sigh escaped from his mouth while his fingers caressed the cold barrel of the gun, already aroused at the idea of pointing the canon against your head the moment he would force you to get in his car. Even if he knew that the wisest thing to do after your capture was to drive you to them, he thought about going on a little stroll with you. Maybe he'll bring you to an isolated land to shove you on the muddy ground, and make you regret the day you decided to murder his brother in the small mountainous town of Haute-Falaise. Only after he had ruined you enough, stealing every ounce of your dignity, he would drive you to Section D's headquarters. With a bit of luck, he could keep hurting you a little bit more before they decide to pull the trigger and repaint the walls with the contents of your brain.

The roots of his hatred had started the day he realized that each time he closed his lids, his brother's eyes haunted him. Or at least, the two hollow and dark holes on his face since his eyes had been gouged out. There was also the blood, running from his mouth, ears, nose, and even streaming down his cheeks in crimson tears. Maybe he should have listened to the local police when they told him not to look at the corpse, but he had to do it. To his questions, even the forensic pathologist couldn’t answer. The only certainty the experts agreed on was that Christian’s lungs and heart had been smashed to a pulp from the inside and that he had stab wounds all over his body just like the other four corpses found. Five corpses and nothing else. The murderer was nowhere to be seen: no one had witnessed something, not even heard the slightest muffled scream. It was as if Death came, struck them with his scythe, and left without a trace.

Closer. A little bit closer...

You jumped at the sudden and unexpected sensation of a man’s hand squeezing your frail shoulder. As nimble as a cat and as quick as a lightning bolt, you jumped from the wall and unsheathed the dagger you kept hidden in your right lace garter, “Who the fuck are you?!” You hissed, voice burning with fury and frozen eyes darting at the stranger. You had been so quick to react that the man, vaguely confused by what just happened, found himself in quite a poor situation. Indeed, he didn’t expect a young woman to press the tip of a sharp blade against his carotid artery, ready to slit it. God knew he was a fearless fighter, but you had been too unpredictable, even for him. And yet, he didn’t move nor particularly react despite the unpleasant surprise.

“Heaven Shelby?” He asked.

You snarled and bared your teeth at this unfamiliar voice calling you by your name. If marrying Arthur Shelby had taught you what real love was, you had also learned how to become even more deadly than you already were. Seemed like the Shelby's wariness had turned you feral.

“Make one more step and I’ll bleed you like a fucking pig.” You warned. The cold wind of the night blew in your hair, making your long white locks dance behind you like the ghostly veil of a dead bride. He frowned, unsettled by its uncommon color. What disturbed him the most though was maybe the pale and haunting color of your eyes, whose shade reminded him of two cursed aquamarine stones.

“Mrs. Shelby. I mean no harm, ‘specially not when facing such a young and delicate lady,” He started, the corner of his lips stretching in a fathomless smile despite the awe you inspired him. His small and cunning fox-like eyes squinted as he grinned. Somehow, he didn't seem to mind the blade that was still threatening him as if such a situation was casual -- and it was. If anything, he was impressed by your fierceness and the hatred that shone in your iris, which created a striking contrast with your little frame and doll face, “Well not as delicate as I’ve been told.” His smile widened at his own comment, “It’s dangerous out’here m’lady, I’ve spotted you by chance and thought I’d bring you home safe.”

“Dangerous.” You snorted, unable to hold your sarcasm. “Get the fuck away from me.” Each word from your mouth was dripping with caustic vitriol, leaving no doubt about your hostility and lethal potential. Judging by your quick and deadly reaction, you were certainly more than capable of taking care of yourself -- in truth, he could tell you wouldn't hesitate to end his life. But instead of backing up, the man carefully brought his fingertips on the shining surface of the dagger and pried it away from his throat in a slow movement without breaking eye contact with you.

“A car is following you.” He informed you.

“What?” This phrase hit you like a train, impairing the fierceness and self-confidence you’ve been showing. Surveying your surroundings quickly, you did notice the shadow of a car not so far away in the distance with its headlights shut and two glistening eyes staring at you from the driver's seat. The moment the shadow understood that you had spotted him, the car headed away from you in a loud engine roar and disappeared in the misty night. Fuck, the lad was right: someone had been following you. You sniffed, still in shock, and quickly wiped your tears with the brush of one knuckle before tricking your anxiety into focusing on your unexpected savior again. Your armed hand might be hanging loosely from your slim body, but your fingers were still firmly wrapped around the dagger’s handle. It was an expensive and deadly blade, gifted by one mysterious red-head woman whose hair reminded you of a wildfire. You had trouble remembering the name — Lucy? Something like this. What you knew though was that this troubled soul was called ‘Tommy’s little spy” by the Shelby's family, but since you couldn’t care less about your brother-in-law’s personal life you didn’t investigate further. The girl had been nice with you, that was all that mattered.

Even armed and feral, you felt vulnerable. At your big confused eyes and at the sight of mascara running down your cheeks, the man couldn’t help but feel sorry for you. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that you could pass off for his daughter or maybe because you were just a few years older than his own son? He slightly tilted his body to one side to let the weak beam of a street light disclose his face and overall appearance: long and messy gray hair, thin lips, small glistening eyes, and a mysterious and slightly disturbing grin.

“Mrs. Shelby, you should come with me.” He advised, then he extended his arm, about to lay his strong hand on your shoulder a second time when you stepped back to avoid his touch with a dissuasive hiss. He stopped, “Lemme bring you back to your husband. It’s Arthur Shelby, ‘m I right?” This time, he simply offered you his palm and waited for you to make the first step. You replied to his invitation by looking dagger at him: if your eyes could kill, this one would already be sleeping with the fishes.

“No.” You protested, as stubborn as a Shelby by birth. Your heart squeezed in your chest at the mention of Arthur, the thought of him coming back home all coked up and intoxicated was still fueling your rage like gasoline thrown at a destructive fire. The last thing you wanted at the moment was to see your husband. If someone had asked you, you’d have answer that what you sincerely wanted was John and his comforting arms. John and his beaming smile. John and his way of teasing you, his jokes, his softness, his cockiness... Yes, that was John you wanted, and you wanted him now. But the cruel truth was that John wasn’t there anymore. He was lying dead and cold in a morgue, leaving you with nothing but the insufferable pain of his loss and your head screaming. “I don’t want to see him.” You asserted and fled the man’s gaze, who soon understood the situation — with age came experience, and from experience he could recognize the aching expression of a young woman wounded by the hazards of love. These Shelby men… He thought with a certain disdain. Oh, he had not been irreproachable all his life either, but a woman’s heart was a gift he missed every day of his life since his wife’s death. The mysterious lad softly reached for your wrist and, not minding your feral nature anymore, he brought it closer to his face to examine the open gash on your porcelain skin.

“Did he hurt you?”

“I did this to myself.” You broke the physical contact right away and pressed your palm firmly on the still-bleeding wound. Adrenaline had pumped so hard through your veins that the pain had been numbed: only now your nerves were slowly wakening up, sending unpleasant tingles where the cut was. While he observed you carefully, the man wondered why such a young and fragile thing like you would do this to herself.

“Seems like you had a harsh night, kitten.” He stated with a slight fatherly tone which surprised you before he noticed the goosebumps on your skin. The situation had been so exceptional that he completely obliterated that you were barefoot outside, in the freezing temperature of Birmingham’s night, wearing nothing but a short dress. Without further ado, the man took his long black coat off and put it over your shoulders. While you still shot him a suspicious look, the warmth in which he wrapped you felt good. Your muscles relaxed and your hand closed on the two sides you brought together near your throat to protect it from the wind. “While I get why y’don’t wanna go home, ‘specially if you fought with your man, you have to understand that being alone at night in Small Heath is not safe. Let alone currently, with Changretta’s men trying to murder you all. Maybe you’d like me to bring you to Thomas instead?”

A shiver ran down your spine at the simple mention of your brother-in-law’s name. The sensation of his lips against yours was still burning your flesh and even hours after your last encounter you couldn’t get rid of his cologne’s scent that was still lingering on your hair and skin, “I’d rather get fucked by a horse than deal with this bastard.” The man blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected you to have such a foul mouth -- that was why let out a soft chuckle, to which you replied with a very faint smile.

“Alright kitten… I get it. No Shelby men. And what about coming with me to my vardo? My son has lit a campfire and he is cooking some rabbits. Would you like that?” He suggested, one brow raised and his fox-like grin widening almost to his ears.

“You still haven't told me who you are.”

The man took off his brown hat at your clever comment, “Ah yes. Where are my manners ay?” His dark blue eyes glistened with a cunning gleam as he slowly nodded “The name’s Aberama Gold. Nice to meet you.”

“You bloody idiot… Sit here and don’t do anything stupid anymore.” Polly instructed her oldest nephew as soon as he had entered the room, pointing to an empty chair with her half-consumed cigarette. All alone with Ada and his aunt, who were still waiting for the other guests to come, Arthur took place and kept his head down. Polly simply took a long drag from her black cigarette and exhaled, smoke coming out of her mouth like the Devil as she quietly observed Arthur’s eyebags and bloody knuckles. Soon after your departure, she had heard the cacophony of screams and thuds coming from his house in Watery Lane. When she witnessed all the blood, destroyed furniture, and shards of glass in the living room, she had been was convinced that Arthur had murdered you out of jealousy or something. Fortunately enough, the situation wasn't that dramatic -- at least for her. After throwing herself at her nephew and forcing him to calm the fuck down, she did her best to keep the oldest Shelby brother from hurting himself more than he already did. When things got quieter, she had even scolded him as she did when he was a kid — except that all the other sermons he had been through in his childhood were nothing compared to the anger she had unleashed when he had confessed about taking drugs again.

“Is she coming to the meeting?” She finally inquired, one of her elbows resting on the wooden table and her cigarette consuming itself between her fingers.

“Don’t know Pol.” Arthur’s usual loud and gruff voice was reduced to a shy, hoarse, and saddened whisper. No matter his attempt at distracting his mind, his thoughts always came back to you. Only you. He didn’t know where you were nor if you’d come back to him and that was slowly driving him crazy. Or more than he already was. Arthur felt his fragile sanity slipping through his fingers and knew it wouldn't be long before he went berserk if it turned out you really left. Also, he was growing frustrated and agitated about sitting here in the betting shop, waiting for a useless meeting to start instead of looking for you. All he wanted was to burn this city to the ground and make it bleed until he found you and brought you back home where you belonged. That is to say by his side. Nevertheless, Polly had advised him against this decision, convinced it would only fuel your rage against him even more. She wasn’t wrong though, you needed space.

The fierce Aunt stubbed her cigarette out in the nearest ashtray and leaned toward her nephew to grab his wrist with one of her cold and sly hands. It snapped him out of his crumbling mind. “You’re insanely lucky to have a woman like her in your life, Arthur. Don’t be an ungrateful cunt by letting your addictions ruin the most precious thing you have. The bland and momentarily relief snow grants you will never hold a candle to Heaven. Understand?” She warned with the same tone she used when a young Arthur came back home all bloody after fighting at school. “Hey. Look at me.” The gangster sniffed and raised his steel blue eyes to his Aunt, his lips trembling and dimples appearing on his cheeks as he clenched his jaws. How right she was. Even when snorting a ridiculously huge amount of snow he didn’t feel better. In fact, his high had been insipid when compared with how you made him feel, blissed out and in pure ecstasy, when his lips crashed against yours. An unpleasant surge of electricity crossed his body at this thought as he remembered how his whole being yearned for you. “She’ll come back. I know she will, and you’ll make up for your idiocy. But let me warn you, boy. Witches usually don’t believe in second chances. If she gives you one, don’t ever fuck it all up anymore, or she’ll tear your bloody heart from your chest and smash it in front of your beseeching eyes. And you’ll consider yourself lucky if she only did it figuratively. ” At these murderous words, which felt like another stab, Arthur bit the inside of his cheek until he could taste blood on his tongue.

“I’ll do that.” He concluded, closing his hands in fists in a vain attempt to keep his temper quiet despite his spiraling thoughts. Thoughts that revolve around either you and how he would end his damn life if you ever left him. With a loud bang, a strong rope, or hell, his own razor blade, he didn’t care. Polly simply nodded and sat straight again as the other members of the clan entered the room one by one and took place, waiting for Tommy. At each footstep, Arthur raised his head with impatience, wishing it was you and internally screaming when he realized it wasn’t. HeavenHeavenHeavenHeaven… It never stopped, the thought of you compulsive and maddening. He cleared his throat and grunted nervously, his gaze glaring at an invisible dot on the wall that was facing him.

Tommy erupted in the room, a placid expression etched on his face as always, giving the impression he was in complete control of the situation. Was he? No one was truly sure about that. He stood fearlessly in front of the small crowd, far from being impressed by public speeches, and let his turquoise eyes wander on every face. Sometimes you wondered if Thomas Shelby would better drop the criminal life and start a political career. After all, he had all the required qualities: manipulative, sweet-talking, dishonest, and heartless. Tommy took one look at his brother’s face and quickly got a broad understanding of what had happened -- It wasn't particularly difficult though considering how Arthur belonged to the expressive kind. His eyes usually talked before he even opened his mouth. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder if it was his fault. If it was because of the... kiss, or his moment of confusion as he liked to call it. Yet, his sharp instincts knew that Arthur hadn’t been informed of this little event otherwise he would have certainly gone straight for his throat no matter the family blood running in their veins. Loyalty had its limits, and the limits bore your name. When he noticed your absence, Tommy discreetly clenched his sharp jaws for even if he loathed you, you had your place among the family for the meeting and the rest of them would probably not vote if you weren’t there. Nevermind, he thought. He had barely parted his lips when he heard the clicking sound of heels approaching and with the sound came your perfume. Just like Arthur, he immediately recognized the spring-like fragrances of your scent, especially now that he had buried his nose in your silvery mane.

Arthur’s heart made a leap in his tight ribcage as he saw you bathed in the warm light of the betting shop, dressed like the day you left the house except for your hair that was styled in two French braids cascading down the small of your back. He wanted to get up and embrace you, choke you in a hug, or fall on his knees to beg for forgiveness without minding the other people in the room but Polly’s strong hand squeezed his thigh to prevent him from doing so. Thus, all he did was just staring at you with pitiful and beseeching eyes. But you didn’t look at him. In truth, you didn’t look at anyone. Ignoring the burning sensation of Tommy’s turquoise iris following you, you passed by him and headed right to the free chair between Polly and Arthur. As soon as you sat next to him, he obliterated the world in favor of your heavenly presence as he usually did when you were around. The lanky gangster tried his chance and his fingers shyly searched for yours under the table. He was dying to feel your touch again, the coldness of your frosty skin being the only remedy to his troubled soul and broken mind. However, you denied him your affection by slightly shifting your hand away from him no matter how hard it was for you too. Your rejection stung him more painfully than a white-hot blade. Arthur bit the inside of his cheek harder but instead of making a scene or bursting with both rage and frustration, he tried his best to be a good boy and simply lowered his head as an unruly child who had just been scolded. His lonely hand rested on his thigh he nervously rubbed, desperately trying to chase away his sadness.

“John is dead.” Tommy exhaled loudly and made a short pause as if he was still processing the awful truth. John. Is. Dead. Your frail fingers fidgeted the fabric of your dress at Tommy’s statement, doing so only to avoid digging them into your own flesh and scratching it until you bleed. For a micro while, Tommy's self-confidence flickered, afflicted by his baby brother’s savage murder, before he regained composure and his eyes darkened again, “Esme’s back on the road with the Lees. She’s taken the kids. Michael is badly wounded, they say it’s 60/40 in his favor.”

“There’s no number, there’s no percentages” Polly cut him off, “So the hand, the hand beneath him stops his falling. Spoke to someone… My son will live.” It was more or less all you’ve heard of the conversation, for your mind soon drifted. As Tommy kept talking, your frozen eyes as glacial as Dante’s latest ring of Hell locked on your husband. Observing him with great attention, you tried to look for anything that would prove he was high. But despite a huge deal of effort, you didn’t see any grain of white powder near his nostrils. Arthur’s eyes weren’t dilated, his hands didn’t shake and his breathing was as soft as quiet. If anything, he looked awfully tired and miserable. To be honest, you could not help but think about how bad you missed him and how handsome he was in his suit even if your mood was still sour and resentful.

Arthur grunted, distracting himself from the pain by following the conversation and playing his henchman role. He took a golden bullet out of the pocket of his trousers and, holding it between his thumb and his index finger, looking at its shiny surface on which he had carved Luca’s name: “Yeah, Well… The bullet’s been written… It says Luca.” He paused, a glimpse of John’s face reflecting on the gold for half a second. “When the time comes and it will come… Me as the oldest brother —“ He swallowed again, John had disappeared, “Will put this bullet into his fucking head.” He concluded his speech by putting the said bullet on the table, the metallic sound echoed in the room and chilled you to the bones. Your eyes were still focusing on Arthur, but this time it was because you felt worried for him. Despite his rough and tough demeanor, the slight tremor in his voice and his need to take short pauses had betrayed his profound sorrow. You closed your fists on your dress because of how much you hated to see him in pain. All you wanted was to hold his arm and support him in these difficult times but you were certainly as pretty as stubborn.

“There’s been some bad blood between us.” While he had ignored you for most of his speech, Tommy’s intense gaze fell on you. Feeling the ice of his eyes burning you, you cocked an eyebrow. Was it a pathetic attempt to apologize? Or was he blaming you for it?

Bad blood… Polly scoffed. You snort. That was the least he could say.

It felt like an eternity before little King Shelby spoke again, not paying attention to his Aunt’s and your attitude. He looked at the ceiling, looking for his words then he went on, “Until this business is settled we stay together. We stay here…” To assert his claim, Tommy explained how the family would be safe as long as they stayed together, surrounded by an army of faces they already knew. His plan was simple: all the family remained together until they manage to kill Luca Changretta. Until then, no one was allowed to stray away from Small Heath. Arthur's first reaction following this suggestion was to turn his head towards you, looking with concern for far too well he knew you didn't wish to stay. A small sigh escaped from your plumped lips as you dived into his sad eyes, but you remained silent. Worst, you remained awfully placid and hated yourself for looking so much like Tommy for a short while. The rest bored you to hell and blurred into a mush of unintelligible bribes of conversation, except for the mention of Aberama Gold and Johnny Dogs’ complaints about the man. Savages he had said. The same word he had used the first time you met him. She's a freakin' savage, Arthur. An evil creature straight from the woods! Rolling your eyes, you bit your tongue to keep your mouth shut, and not scream at Dogs to tell him that Aberama Gold might be a savage but at least he took care of you these last few days better than any members of the Shelby clan did. At least not before interminable months of insults and death/suspicious stares. As the conversation went on, Polly put a glass of whisky in front of you but you pushed it away almost immediately -- you've been feeling nauseous since you left Watery Lane so drinking strong alcohol was the last thing you had in mind. Thus, you simply passed the glass to Arthur, who certainly needed it more than you.

“… Which means we have to agree to end this war between us.” Thomas Shelby might be addressing the whole family, but you knew his words were mainly aimed at you, which only made you move your foot impatiently under the table. Ending this war, of course, you thought. And what about the last two years of misery you’ve made me undergo each time we met? What about the moment you strangled me? And what about all the awful things you said after thrusting your tongue in my fucking mouth? These would have been all the things you would have screamed at him if your legendary coldness had broken. Which, fortunately for everyone in the room, hadn’t.

Truthful to himself, Tommy asked for the family to vote.

“Peace.” Arthur finally decided, taking the glass and gulping down the amber liquid it contained in hope it would numb him. It didn’t. As surprising as it was to hear the oldest sibling choosing a non-violent approach to a conflict, you knew it was the best decision to make. So as everyone shared their opinion, you thought deeply about yours until your turn came. At first, you didn’t realize it was already your time to speak — only the sudden silence and the weight of a dozen eyes on you could snatch you from your mind. And among the pair of eyes, the one that burnt the fiercest was Tommy’s.

“Now we’re asking for my opinion?” You said, sarcastic venom coating your words.

“Angel, please…” Arthur whispered, but you waved off his comment with a disdainful gesture of the hand. He currently wasn’t in the position to advise you. Not after hurting you like he did.

“Truce.” You stated, coldly. The word left your mouth with the power of a guillotine’s blade on an inmate’s neck and surprised everyone in the room. In truth, they were all convinced you would disagree with the idea. Polly and Ada offered you a warm smile, while Tommy lowkey nodded in approval at your wise decision.

“Five for peace, two for truce. Let’s get on with the war.” He concluded, turning around and walking out of the betting shop without one last glance at any of his family’s members: his scheming mind already focused on the next part of his plan.

As always, Tommy couldn't live without pulling the strings.

As the room cleared out and people left, you remained alone with Arthur in an uncomfortable silence. Because you had nothing to tell him, you got up from your chair and proceeded to walk to the exit without uttering a single word but the tall gangster caught you by the wrist, forcing you to stop. His long fingers closed around you a bit too bluntly than he intended though. You winced and as a result, he immediately let go of you, showing his palm open to indicate that he didn't mean to hurt you.

“Heaven, please." His gravelly voice called. "Enough with the cold treatment… I can’t. It’s hurting me.” He said rather slowly, for putting words on his emotions was not something he was used to. Most of the time he just yelled and resorted to violence. , “I beg ye, go back home, angel.”

"You had promised me, Arthur." You articulated.

"And you had also promised me not to hurt yourself anymore." His gruff voice raised a little bit, threatening to turn into frustrated yellings because he didn’t know how to properly communicate his emotions, especially not when they were so obsessive and overwhelming. But Arthur didn’t want to scream at you so what he did was take a deep inhale to force himself not to be his usual loud and rude self. “You also promised to me, love.” He repeated in a calmer tone even if his quivering upper lip and twitching mustache showed how much he was struggling.

“So now we both understand how it feels when the other part of your soul breaks a promise. What a great step forward we’ve made.” That was mean. So mean you could barely believe that such an awful taunt came from your tantalizing mouth — but even though you instantly regretted it, you didn’t falter. No matter your mad love for Arthur and the untamable desire to throw yourself in his arms, you weren’t going to bend: things needed to be clear right now or they’ll never never be.

“I’m sorry, love. I’m fucking sorry alright?!" He growled, opening his arms as to silently ask you what he had to do for you to believe him. "I swear there isn’t a second during which I’m not regretting everything I did and said to you.” He finally admitted, long arms falling along his slim body, “I wasn’t meself even if I know this ain’t no excuse. I won't do it again. But…Please Heaven I can’t go on without you. And I don’t want to.” The only answer to his pleadings was a heavy silence combined with your frost-like gaze.

Arthur’s eyes lingered over your arm until they fell on the deep cut you had inflicted upon yourself. This is what it feels like when you take drugs. The powerlessness he had felt when he watched the blood running down your skin and soaking the fabric of your clothes was etched in his mind: he, who had promised to protect you against everything, realized he couldn’t save you from yourself if you chose to destroy you… And that powerlessness was the same you experienced when he egoistically relapsed. That was a harsh lesson, but a lesson he had learned. “Please forgive me.” He begged and sucked in a sharp breath as if he was physically in pain, yet he still took your arm in his hand with indescribable softness and, with his free one, caressed your still swollen and red gash.

Your dainty body stood still, trying not to give in to the delightful sensation of his warm skin against yours but your heart sunk in your chest “You have to understand that you cannot act like a jerk, hurt me, treat me like shit and then come back with your puppy eyes, and beg for forgiveness. It doesn’t work like that." You said.

“So you're not coming back...” His voice broke, warm hand closing on your wound.

Your touch. I need it. It's a damn physical need.

“Don’t be stupid Arthur…” You sighed, the traits of your angelic face softening, “That’s not what I said."

"So please, love. Forgive me. I'll do whatever ye want. I'll get on my knees right now if that's what you want." His body shifted, closing the distance between the two of you until his arms wrapped around your waist. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach at the sight of his enchanting blue eyes, whose color was so different from his brothers. Slightly darker, far less colder. With your heart beating fast and your mind buzzing, you couldn't keep your fingers from gently grazing one of his cheeks. He half closed his eyelids at the sensation, the tremors of his body already calming down now that you were touching him.

"I don't want you to get on your knees. And I don't want to make a dog out of you like Linda did. All I ask for is my husband, who I know is a wonderfully strong man who doesn't need any chemicals to face the world. Not anymore." Your holy voice sounded like the purest melody in his ears like God's mercy whispered to him. Lulled by your words and strokes, Arthur would have purred if he wasn't already fighting against tears of relief.

"I've been such a fucking bastard... What the fuck is wrong with me eh? I still can't believe every mean thing I've screamed. The words I told ya, they're eating me sick brain." He gritted his teeth, "I don't fucking deserve you." Noticing that his breathing was getting faster, you wrapped his neck with your arms and lifted yourself on your tiptoes to lay a kiss on his chin.

"Stop it, Art. Don't beat yourself." You whispered in his ear, one hand lost in his perfectly slicked hair. "You want me to forgive you? Well; show me that all these promises you made weren’t empty. That our wedding can overcome everything, even the worst. Prove it to me." As you spoke, you softly rocked him from left to right, trying to calm his anxiety. A sigh escaped from your lips: you just couldn't abandon him as everyone else did. And part of you cursed him for making you feel so weak, especially when he was looking at you with his confused puppy eyes.

“I’ll show you then, angel. I’ll show you because without you birds don’t sing anymore.” He nodded, softly rubbing his cheek against yours. You could feel his heart drumming against your bosom, crying for yours to open up to him again. “I'll show you I'm still a good husband." His lips trailed down your cheek to capture yours, but the moment he tried to kiss them you slightly turned your head to the other side to deny him access to your mouth. He clenched his jaws.

“Go find Thomas and organize the funerals with him." You simply instructed, taking a step back to free yourself from his arms. The lanky gangster nodded and left, head down and arms swinging as he walked away.

All you wished now was that he truly meant what he said.

All alone in the betting shop, you leaned against a wall and closed your eyes, needing a bit of peace to reorganize your thoughts and soothe your overwhelming emotions. Moreover, you had to come to terms with the idea of living near Tommy, here in Small Heath. It has been only weeks since you left your small house in the forest but you already missed it. Suddenly, you jumped at the feeling of two cold hands grasping you by the shoulders. When you reopened your eyelids, you were met by Polly’s motherly smile and dark gaze. Eyes so black it outmatched the bark of the most ancient trees you had ever seen. And just like these trees, they had something mystical, as if they were keeping the Earth's secrets and infinite wisdom. For sure, Elizabeth Gray was a woman of nature, born in the wilderness and raised among the soft whispers of the leaves. You even wonder if her body contained blood or if it was amber sap that was coursing through her veins.

“I’m happy you came back, white Devil.” She said with a soft smile. Since the day she heard Tommy spat the insult at your face, she decided to reverse the curse and use it as an affectionate nickname for you -- an idea you found absolutely delightful.

“I’m a Shelby now, everyone says so… So I suppose my place is here.” The melancholy of your grin betrayed your thoughts and Polly understood that only now you were starting to understand what bearing this family name truly meant. “I'm not gonna lie, Polly, I didn’t want to come. That’s Mr. Gold who convinced me I needed to. After hours of bargaining, he got me by telling me it would get under Tommy's skin.”

“You call him Tommy now?” She teased, trying to make you smile but little she knew her remark had the opposite effect. You pursed your juicy lips and looked away.

“Something happened with him right.” The fierce Aunt frowned, observing your face as if she would be able to find an answer to her question hidden in your holy traits. Now sincerely concerned, her grip tightened on your shoulders, like benevolent roots anchoring you to reality. While she knew the difficult and rocky relationship you had with little King Shelby, she had never seen you display such a dreadful expression when his name was mentioned.

“Something always happens with him anyway. But that’s not important.” You closed the topic, not wanting to talk about him any longer. The fucker had done enough to infect your brain, so you didn’t want to give him more space. "Do you think Johnny Dogs says the truth about the Gold? I mean, I'm not Romani but the Gold are nice to me and--"

"Heaven. Oh Lord." She cut you off, her smile swept away from her face so quickly you blinked several times.

"What's the matter, Pol?" You asked, eyebrows frowned.

Freeing your shoulders, her left hand grabbed one of your breasts to squeeze it softly while the right one felt your abdomen at different places, looking for something you didn't know. The more she touched you, the more her facial expression seemed concerned. Completely taken aback by her sudden behavior, your lips parted in surprise as you watched her.

"Does Arthur know it?!" She inquired, her dark eyes switching between you and your tummy.

“Does Arthur know what?"

“That you’re pregnant.”

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @bluevenus19

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sharksnshakes · 10 months

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Killers' Big Spoon vs. Little Spoon! HCs

Everybody has a soft spot. Even killers in the fog... right?

AN; still very conflicted over some of 'em but fuck it we ball. monstercuddlers, your time is now

TW; none i can think of

Big spoon

CALEB QUINN, Frank Morrison, Ji-Woon Hak, Albert Wesker, Herman Carter, Pinhead

Little spoon

Philip Ojomo, Max Thompson Jr.

Both

EVAN MACMILLAN, JOEY, Pyramid Head, Danny Johnson, Kazan Yamaoka

Would never be caught dead cuddling with anybody (or so they say)

ALBERT WESKER, Danny Johnson, Kazan Yamaoka, Evan MacMillan

...What do spoons have to do with cuddling?

Freddy Kreuger, Michael Myers, Pinhead, Max Thompson Jr.

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soapyghostie · 11 months

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Welcome Ghosties! 👻

My name is Sophia Lynn, but you may call me Sophi! ❤ I’m a multi-fandom writer who writes for Slashers, Dead by Daylight, Five Nights at Freddy’s, Sally Face, and Hazbin Hotel. Below you’ll find all the information necessary if you’re looking to request or read any of my works. Stay safe and take care of yourself!

requests open! (Check character list below)

masterlists 🎃 Slashers 🎃 Dead by Daylight 🎃 Five Nights at Freddy’s 🎃 Hazbin Hotel

Characters 🎃 Jason Voorhees 🎃 Michael Myers 🎃 Freddy Krueger 🎃 Bubba Sawyer 🎃 Nubbins Sawyer 🎃 Choptop Sawyer 🎃 Drayton Sawyer 🎃 Thomas Hewitt 🎃 Bo Sinclair 🎃 Vincent Sinclair 🎃 Lester Sinclair 🎃 Norman Bates 🎃 Hannibal Lecter 🎃 Amanda Young 🎃 Billy Loomis 🎃 Stu Macher 🎃 Charles ‘Chucky’ Lee Ray 🎃 Tiffany Valentine 🎃 Brahms Heelshire 🎃 Billy Lenz 🎃 Pinhead 🎃 Pyramid Head 🎃 Ash Williams 🎃 Albert Wesker 🎃 Pearl 🎃 Harry Warden 🎃 Carrie White 🎃Jennifer Check 🎃 The Trapper/Evan MacMillan 🎃 The Doctor/Herman Carter 🎃 The Hillbilly/Max Thompson Jr. 🎃 The Wraith/Phillip Ojomo 🎃 The Huntress/Anna 🎃 The Legion/F.J.S.J 🎃 The Ghost Face/Danny Johnson 🎃 The Deathslinger/Caleb Quinn 🎃 The Spirit/Rin Yamaoka 🎃 The Trickster/Ji-Woon Hak 🎃 The Knight/Tarhos Kovács 🎃 Laurie Strode 🎃 Steve Harrington 🎃 William Afton/Springtrap 🎃 Freddy Fazbear 🎃 Bonnie 🎃 Chica 🎃 Foxy 🎃 Golden Freddy 🎃 Mangle 🎃 Marionette 🎃 Circus Baby 🎃 Funtime Freddy 🎃 Funtime Foxy 🎃 Ballora 🎃 Mike Schmidt 🎃 Sal Fisher 🎃 Larry Johnson 🎃 Ashley Campbell 🎃 Charlie Morningstar 🎃 Vaggie 🎃 Angel Dust 🎃 Husk 🎃 Sir Pentious 🎃 Alastor 🎃 Lucifer Morningstar 🎃 Adam

Rules 🎃 Don’t request more than 3 characters. It can become a handful. 🎃 I’ll delete any requests that I can’t understand, make me uncomfortable, or are too complicated to write about. 🎃 Please be polite when asking for a request. Thank you! 🎃 I don’t write: NSFW/smut, pedophilla, rape, or romantic age gap relationships

Have fun! ❤️

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stressedemoblackbratz · 1 year

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CELEBS (OR MORE)

completed = 𓆩♡𓆪

unfinished = ♡

in the works = ➳

oneshots = ★

INCOMING…

#lil meech #lil meech x reader #lucas sabbat #namor of talokan #michael rainey jr #angus cloud #dominic fike #rodrick #black reader #black y/n #jahking guillory

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charliedawn · 1 year

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Hi♥️Can I request for a fic in this slasher series when y/n dies or killed in a story you choose and how they react and who took it hard the most? Just read your slasher fic series in 2 days and I love it! The chapter 34 to 43 are missing in the list and I was wondering why? Michael really made me blush a lot and the Gif isn't helping eather😣💓 Thanks for beautiful fics!

(Hey! Thank you for the request and I have to admit not knowing what those chapters are ? If they are the latest, I'm afraid I didn't add them yet. But, I'll be sure to add them soon.)

It was a day like any other, the day when Y/N L/N died. They were taking a stroll in the forest and thinking about everything they had done so far for the slashers and all the things they would accomplish in the future. But then, they heard the shot.

For a short time, they worried someone had shot one of the slashers by mistake and turned around to return to the facility when..they felt it.

The excruciating pain in their chest.

They slowly lowered their gaze and their eyes watered as an ugly red splotch started spreading on the white cloth of their nurse uniform.

The slashers all felt that something was wrong and ran out of the facility in a same wave of unbridled chaos.

Some would call it an unlucky shot, hunters who had gone too far in the forest and had mistaken you for game.

But, no matter what the reason was..It changed the slashers and left a void never to be filled again..

He tear the hunters who had come to check on you off you and roared.

Penny:

Penny was the first to reach you with his inhuman speed and extraordinary sense of smell.

"DO NOT TOUCH THEM !"

His eyes flashed orange in warning at them and he sniffed your body—desperate to find a sparkle of life. It was the first time Penny wished to smell your fear, to at least know you were alive.

But, he felt nothing.

He cradled you in his arms and felt his voice crack as he slowly turned towards the hunter with the still fuming rifle.

His face started twisting and blood pouring out of his eyes, nose and mouth as he shouted.

"I WILL BRING WAR UPON YOU LIKE THE RED FLAMES OF GODLY VENGEANCE ! WAAARRRRR !"

His voice broke as his face split in two and large sharp teeth sprung out in order to rip off the nearest hunter's head.

The hunters started running after seing Penny's face, but it was already too late.

In a matter of seconds, they were torn to pieces with horrible squelching sounds and devoured until nothing was left but blood and your corpse behind.

Finally, the other slashers found him and when they saw your body, they all shared Penny's grief and didn't try to stop him when he carried you back to the hospital.

The staff was waiting for you, and none dared to speak as Penny entered, drenched in blood and his eyes unfocused..

Penny was inconsolable. He spent days locked up in his cage—scratching and leaving large gashes in his walls and screeched so loud the whole hospital could hear him.

Pennywise :

Pennywise was angry upon discovering your body and it took him a minute or two to realize you weren't coming back.

Once the realization hit, he growled lowly and his claws pierced through the fabric of his gloves.

His eyes flashed bright yellow at the hunters—now huddled together in fear. The bravest pointed their riffles at him, but when they tried to shoot, the shot went backwards and killed them instead.

"You don't know what you have done..You have killed the only person that made me think humanity still had a chance. That you didn't all deserve to be devoured and sent to Hell..Congrats, you idiots. You've just doomed your whole species !"

His head twisted abnormally as he cornered the frightened hunters and his mouth opened wide.

However, they didn't see the lights.

They didn't deserve it.

He didn't leave anything behind, not even a small piece..He then returned to you and held your hand.

He stroked it gently and when he was sure nobody would come and find him in his most vulnerable state, he broke into tears of blood.

It had been so long since he had last cried..But, he knew the feeling in his chest to be sorrow and knowing none of the other ones would be able to bury you in a satisfactory way..He decided to lay you down in a field of wild flowers and cover your body with a thin veil Maturin had given him long ago—one that would allow your body to stay unspoilt for years and centuries to come..

"Goodbye, nice nurse..Know that you may very well have been the only human I have ever loved.."

Arthur :

Arthur was the closest to your location and when he arrived and found you laid down on the ground. He instantly knew.

He didn't cry.

He didn't scream.

"I'm sorry, sweetie..I arrived too late."

Arthur mercilessly shot them all and when the slashers finally arrived, they were surprised to find one of the hunters still breathing.

Their eyes turned to your lifeless form and Pennywise took the last hunter by the back of the neck to throw him unceremoniously before the slashers.

"That little sh*t killed them. Do whatever you want with him.."

"N..No. Please.", the last hunter begged—but was met with deaf ears.

The slashers didn't hesitate and all started beating the man to a pulp until nothing remained.

All the work you had done. All the sacrifices you had made..All gone.

With your absence, the slashers were bound to return to their old ways and Arthur found it ironical.

To think all your work had gone to waste..What a shame.

Once he was out of sight, Arthur stopped and looked up, a crow flying high above the trees—spying.

He smiled.

Maybe in another life, would he find you again ?

But, he shook his head.

Nah. If he knew one thing about life it was that it wasn't fair or merciful..

Game over.

The hunters were dead before they could even take another breath. They had all of their heads cut off in one singular swing of Jason's powerful machete.

He then quickly knelt by your side and tried to wake you up, until he realized it was too late.

The grief took over him and he refused anyone to touch your body for days. He didn't want to believe you were truly gone and took all his frustration out on the trees outside.

It was better than to admit to the slashers that he was crushed, a mess inside..Brahms tried to comfort him, but had to give up after some time.

Then, Jason decided to close himself to everything around him until he slowly started drowning in guilt..

The slashers then decided to send the only person they thought they'd never send..Freddy.

Freddy *kicks open his door* : "QUIT YOUR MOPPING AND GET OUT OF YOUR BEDROOM, YOU BIG LAZY A** !"

It was followed by a big fight where Jason could fight out all his pent-up frustration and anger.

At the end, the both of them were pretty beat up and bloody—but it did help Jason a little as he finally confessed.

"They're..gone."

Freddy sighed before sitting down next to him.

"Yup. They are. And do you really think they'd like you to stay here and cry your eyes out ? They fought for this place. They fought for you..The least ya could do is respect that, yeh ?"

Jason didn't want to admit that Freddy was right, but he was. You had given your life for that hospital and him.

The least he could do was make sure to realize your wish and redeem himself. For you.

Freddy :

The rather cheerful and obnoxious slasher had fallen quiet upon the news of your death.

It was strange not hearing him jeer or complain for days on end. He only stared and whoever would enter his cell would suffer an unfortunate and drastic end.

Having a chatty Freddy used to be a good sign that he was growing softer...But, the cold silence coming from him afterwards was the worst thing and it showed just how much he cared.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart..It seems ol' Freddy wasn't fast enough this time around."

He whispered above your grave and left his hat on your tombstone before walking away.

He had made a promise to you not to let his anger affect him, but he will have to break it. Just this once. Just until he could find the bastards that had taken you away from him..

After all, guilt did make the best nightmares..

Freddy *cackles darkly* : "You'll see, sweetheart...They'll regret ever firing that shot. I promise you that."

It would make Freddy go on a murder rampage and track all of your murderers to the very last one—all of them.

He would make them suffer for what they did—beg for death. And even then, I don't think he'd be merciful.

Michael :

Michael had a short moment of disbelief as he saw your body hit the ground..The bullet had been meant for him no doubt, but the hunters hadn't calculated the risk of him being accompanied.

"Please..", he rasped, "..Don't leave me."

For once, he didn't hear Myers at the back of his head, he was silent as well.

They both couldn't believe it and Michael held you closer.

"Please, sunshine..Wake up. I need you. Please.."

He begged you, but your eyes remained closed. It was too late.

You were gone.

Michael cried over your body and even though the sight of blood had never fazed him—yours made him sick and shake with horror.

Michael had just gathered the courage to tell you how much he was grateful for you, to tell you that he wasn't scared of Myers anymore, because you were there.

But, the bullet had hit its target before he could, and he would never be able to tell you now, to tell you how much he cared about you.

He kissed your forehead lovingly and felt his sorrow turn to indescribable rage as he felt the cold skin under his lips.

Myers took over and he looked in the direction where the hunters had run.

He put his mask on and pulled his knife out.

None of the hunters were ever found..

Brahms :

Brahms thought it was an odd game, or some kind of prank at first.

He laughed it off and tried to shake you awake. But, his smile quickly vanished when he realized you weren't waking up.

"Come on..It's not funny anymore.."

He insisted, but you didn't answer and he looked up to see that the slashers had now surrounded you and weren't looking at him.

"W...Why aren't they waking up ?", he asked with teary eyes—but none of them answered. How were they supposed to tell him ? Tell him that you would never stand up ever again..

Jason finally knelt beside the both of you and laid his hand on Brahms' shoulder with an apologetic expression.

When Brahms realized you weren't coming back, he felt tears well up in his eyes and slowly closed your eyes.

This way, he could imagine for a second more that you were simply asleep..

Brahms had learned to show his face, leaving his mask on his bedside table and go along his merry way with a big smile on his face since your first meeting.

The day you died, he put his mask back on. No one would ever see his face again..

He then went on a bloody rampage to track down all of your killers—followed suit by Jason.

Five immediately teleported to your location and froze at the sight of your body on the floor.

He didn't give a chance to the hunters to find an excuse and butchered them all.

"I never got the chance to tell them how..how much I cared. All because of you.", Five muttered to the corpses now scattered on the ground.

He then knelt beside you and slowly picked you up, carefully bringing you back to the hospital where slashers, patients and staff alike stood out of his way.

He then put you down on the sofa in the living room and a heavy silence settled all around at the realization that you were dead.

Nobody wanted to believe it, Five first and foremost.

He had promised you to never kill again, but what was the point of keeping that promise when you weren't there anymore ?

You were the only one Five had ever willingly listened to and your death took all of the mercy he had for this world with it.

He would go back to his family and let the world burn, let it be destroyed by another apocalypse or natural disaster.

Your death would be the starting point of the world's downfall. No biggie. 😂

Norman went through a long period of depression after you died. He blamed himself for not being there to stop it.

He knew it was bound to happen eventually, he just wished it wouldn't be so soon.

He did make sure your killers were well punished for their mistake, but it make the pain any less excruciating..

He looked up at the ceiling and covered his eyes with his arm—asking with tears streaming down his face.

"My little monster..I'm lost. What should I do now ?"

His question was left unanswered as he remembered all the times you had been there to answer.

You always had the answer to everything—that's what he liked about you.

You always made him feel as if life was worth living and now that you were gone, a big empty hole had replaced you in his heart..

He felt numb and the very thought that he would never see you again was enough to make him sick and wonder if he could just end it all..But then, he thought of what you were discussing before your death. Your wish to help the slashers as much as possible and he started thinking about it.

The slashers had always been a great concern of yours since the moment you had discovered their existence through Norman and he wanted to honor you.

So, he would continue your work and make sure to be a worthy example for the slashers and guide them, as you wanted.

Norman : "I'll make you proud, my little monster..You'll see."

Hannibal Jr. immediately ran towards the sound of the riffle shot and when he found you on the ground—lifeless..Something snapped in him.

He shot them all. They didn't even see it coming.

You were the only person who had ever believed he could be better—the only person willing to see past the indifference and false pretense.

Foolish dream, as he was now staring at your dead body with nothing but cold numbness.

He wondered if he should eat you ? He would probably start with the liver, the heart and finally, the brain...He caressed your cheek. Tender. Cold. Pale now..He remembered when those cheeks were painted a pretty pink with delight and joy.

He had never even seen you angry.

His other hand balled into a fist.

"...How dare you ? How dare you make me feel like this and leave me so abruptly ?"

He asked—but no answer was given.

He had already lost a lover. He asked himself if he was cursed ? As if to answer him, rain started pouring, hiding his tears from sight.

It wouldn't be known how Hannibal Jr. cried over a mere human. It wouldn't be said...that he has a heart after all.

When the rest of the Hannibal family found him a few hours later, he was still holding your body in his arms and refused for any of them to touch it.

"I loved them.."

He admitted after a moment and the rest of the family remained quiet—knowing the weight and pain of such confession..Now, that you would never hear it.

Hannibal Jr. looked up at Hannibal Sr. and his eyes widened at the sight of his crestfallen expression, taken aback by the desperation he found in his son's eyes as the man asked—his voice trembling.

"Tell me, father..Tell me, you who has already loved and lost many times over..Does it ever stop ?"

Hannibal Sr. considered sparing his son's feelings and lie, but quickly set aside the idea. He had lied. Many times over for various reasons, but he wouldn't to his son.

"The thing about the heart is that it is double-edged, son. Their memory will remain. Forever. In your heart. The good and the bad. All of it.."

He answered genuinely and Hannibal Jr. held your body closer.

"I...see."

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #pennywise 1990 #pennywise 2017 #pennywise x reader #slashers #michael myers x reader #pennywise 1990 x y/n x pennywise 2017 #freddy krueger x reader #arthur fleck x reader #jason voorhees x reader #brahms heelsire x reader #five hargreeves x reader #norman bates x reader #hannibal jr #hannibal x reader

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