Quite Brilliant Ramblings

My Masterlist My personal blog with some old poems and short stories I reblog some adult stuff, you have been forewarned They/Them, 20+

[annjo-wolfe]

My Masterlist

Short Stories:

If Existance was an Ocean: Part 1, Part 2

The Kelpie and the Knight

The Abandoned Hotel

The Moon Chase

-

Poetry:

Fair Folk Prefer Poets

Ilmarinen

I’m not like Other Girls

Shock

There is something inside my wall

A Late Night Storm

Profile Pic by Kitsune-Seven

[kaixinscribbles]

Remmick wants to make sure his vampire grows big and strong.

before you read: possessive!remmick; but he takes good care of you; but he also wants you completely dependent on him; darkish!remmick; fluff; praise; blood; blood drinking; reader's gender/sex is not specified; remmick and reader drink from a human at the same time; remmick feeds reader blood after reader expressed feeling full; remmick and reader make out next to a partially drained corpse; suggestive content; remmick drinks from you; dry humping; remmick sniffs and licks the cream stain you left in your underwear; explicit content; remmick and reader do it next to a partially drained corpse; you get that irish cream up inside of you hehehe

wc: 3.7k

a/n: kiss kiss 😘 now i gotta figure out who i want to write for next. i wanna expand into other characters, but remmick 👀 this fic is based on this post!! and is a soft sequel to this fic!! no need to have read the first one tho :)

dividers: omni-resources

You suckled happily on one side of the woman's neck as Remmick drank from the other side. The two of you had hunted her down together, and now she served as your dinner for the night.

He was hesitant at first, just like with the idea of you feeding from live prey, but Remmick let you come with him on his hunts on the nights he didn't insist on feeding you his own blood. Every good vampire knew how to hunt, and while Remmick wanted to nurture you into the beautiful, capable vampire he knew you could be the night he found you, he still wanted you as dependent on him as possible.

It made for an interesting balancing act.

"Ahhhhh," you sighed, unlatching from the neck of your shared midnight snack. Your blood-stained lips formed into a smile as you laid yourself next to what used to be a living woman full of blood, all happy and content like a cat after a big bowl of milk.

"Don't tell me you're done already, sweetness," Remmick gently teased, unlatching and raising his head so he get could a better look at you, admiring how lovely you looked with blood staining your skin and clothing, a sight he would never tire of.

"I feel full of blood," you replied with a shrug. "Like a tick."

Like a tick. You were so cute.

But it was important for vampires to remain well-fed, especially newer ones like yourself. You needed to grow in power and strength.

On top of that, a hungry vampire was more susceptible to succumbing to their animalistic instincts, doing everything and anything to get a meal, risking exposure to sunlight and humans. While Remmick would thoroughly enjoy being the one to soothe you from an animalistic state, he didn't want you to experience that kind of mindlessness.

You needed to be fed some more, and Remmick had another idea just as wonderful and perfect as feeding you your ex.

"It's important for vampires to stay well-fed, especially young ones like you, sweetness," Remmick gently explained. He reached over and traced his fingers along your cheek and jawline, and thoroughly enjoyed the way you leaned into his touch. "You need to grow big and strong."

"Well…that's true," you acquiesced. You glanced off to the side as you thought about how caring Remmick was. He always made sure your needs were met, and then some. He was so caring and doting. It always made your heart squeeze in the nicest way how much he wanted to see you grow.

"Come here, sweetness," Remmick said as he patted the ground next to him, wanting for you to join him on his side of the partially drained corpse. "I'll make sure you're all nice and fed, don't you worry."

"I never do," you murmured as you joined Remmick on his side of the corpse, your words pleasing him and making his pride purr. You laid yourself next to him and tucked yourself under his arm as he draped it over you.

Safe and warm next to him, just as you would always be, from now until the end of time.

You watched as Remmick leaned into your shared meal's neck to bite into it again. He sucked, but when your gaze trailed down to his neck, you noticed his throat muscles weren't bobbing and contracting.

He wasn't swallowing.

He was letting the blood sit in his mouth.

Your brows furrowed. You weren't sure where he was going with this, but you weren't left wondering for long.

Remmick had his mouth pressed against yours before you could blink. Your eyes widened in surprise, and your body stiffened for a moment, but you quickly relaxed and let yourself enjoy the feel of your mouths pressed together, your eyes fluttering closed.

You felt one of his hands gently hold and squeeze your jaw, parting your lips. As you slipped your tongue between your lips to tease the seam of his, you felt Remmick open his mouth, and the taste of blood coated your tongue. You swallowed it as you felt it slide down the back of your throat, a pleased groan vibrating through the muscles of your throat.

Was this method of ensuring you were well-fed necessary? No, but you certainly didn't mind.

You were never one to turn down physical affection from your creator.

"So good for me," Remmick murmured against your lips once you had swallowed all of the blood he let trickle into your mouth. "There you go, sweetness. Gotta make sure you grow all big and strong, yeah?"

"Yeah," you agreed, your voice a mumbled breath as you nodded slowly. You were in a bit of a daze. Your pupils were blown wide, and you felt hot all over. The intimacy of your creator's touch combined with the natural ecstasy that came with drinking blood was making your head spin.

You could feel the bond you had with Remmick growing even stronger than it already was.

"You want more, sweetness?" He asked gently, his thumb tracing over your bloodied lips. You replied with an eager nod. The needy whine that got stuck in your throat set off something wild in Remmick. He felt it bolt down his spine and spread through his nerves, all the way to the very tips of his being.

You were his to care for. You were his to nurture. You were his.

His.

His.

His.

Your eyes widened as you were suddenly pushed onto your back, your clothing pressing against the damp grass, now sticking to the skin of your back. You watched Remmick intently as he leaned into the corpse's neck to take another bite, once again only sucking out blood to hold in his mouth. Your pupils grew even wider just at the sight. You felt full earlier, but now you suddenly felt hungry, and you needed your bloodlust satisfied again soon.

You needed to grow big and strong, just as Remmick had said.

Remmick soon returned his attention to you, always quick to give you what you needed. From your peripheral vision, you saw him place both of his hands on either side of your head, his legs acting similarly, placing themselves on either side of your thighs. He then leaned down. The moment his blood-filled mouth touched yours, you groaned in bliss and parted your lips, your eyes fluttering shut.

Blood trickled past your lips, into your mouth, and down your throat. You swallowed each mouthful Remmick fed to you greedily. You wrapped your arms around his neck, keeping him close as you took every last drop of blood he fed to you. You felt Remmick's approving hum against your lips.

"Good," he mumbled. He pressed himself closer against your body, leaving not an inch of space between your chests. "So good. Perfect. My perfect vampire." Remmick pulled back so he could look at your face and admire how beautiful you looked. With your mouth stained with blood and your glowing eyes half-lidded and glassy with need, you were an exquisite sight. A creature of blood and beauty all for him.

Him.

Him.

Him.

"Remmick?" You murmured, just barely able to keep your voice from shaking and whimpering with a new lust building within you. "Remmick, I…I-I need…"

"I know," Remmick replied, gently hushing you with a finger over your bloodied lips. The way you whimpered had him biting the inside of his lip hard enough to draw his own blood, and he took a moment to compose himself before continuing. "I know exactly what you need, and it's not blood this time, is it?"

You shook your head. Your tongue slipped past your lips, poking out just enough to give the finger pressed against your mouth a tiny lick. You knew Remmick must have liked the action with how he softly sucked in a breath.

You also felt something hard twitch against your stomach.

Remmick kept his eyes on you as he reached for the arm of the corpse. He pulled down the sleeve of its dress so he could bite down on its wrist and suck out more of its blood to hold in his mouth. His eyes never left yours as he suckled, his lips moving in a way you wish was against your skin. An act charged with intimacy and desire, chills and thrills ran down your spine. You could feel yourself starting to shudder from the anticipation of your needs about to be met again.

He carelessly tossed the arm aside once he had enough blood in his mouth, which landed on the rest of its body with a lifeless thump. He was quick to press his mouth against yours once again so he could feed you more blood, this time moving his hips against yours, grinding his hardness against you.

Blood trickled into your mouth as you opened it with a moan. You once again wrapped your arms around Remmick to keep him close as he fed you and ground his erection against you. The sensation made your head spin even more. It was a delicious addition to the euphoria of drinking blood and the pleasure of your creator's touch.

Even as you swallowed the last drop of blood, you kept your arms around Remmick, and he kept his mouth against yours, his hips still moving against yours. Neither of you wanted to break contact. Not yet. You both still had some needs to be met.

"That's it," Remmick groaned, the sound almost a growl against your still-connected lips as you started to meet his grinding with your own, matching your movements with his. "Keep doing that, sweetness. Keep telling me how much you need me with your body."

You gladly obliged. You kept meeting his movements with yours, for both your own and Remmick's pleasure. Remmick rewarded you with a slow, firm grind of his hips right between your legs. You both moaned in unison, pleasure shooting through your bodies.

"God!" You gasped, back arching off the ground, your grip on Remmick tightening.

"Nuh-uh, sweetness," Remmick murmured, now moving his lips to your jaw and chin, licking and sucking the skin there. "Just me. Me. Only me. Always. Forever."

You couldn't help squealing when you felt Remmick suddenly bite you, your body jolting underneath his. He bit you in the same spot he did when he first came across you crying and decided to make you his. You were startled by the sudden sting of his fangs, but the surprise and the pain was brief, and was quickly replaced with the same warmth and bliss and rightness you felt that fateful night.

"Just a little, sweetness," Remmick mumbled into your skin, his lips now moving, suckling from you the same way he suckled from the corpse's wrist. He kept you firmly pinned underneath him, still pleasuring the both of you with each roll of his hips against yours. "Let me renew our bond."

"Y-yeah…" you agreed with a pleased sigh. You let your eyes roll back and partially close, your body melting and relaxing. Soft moans slipped past your kiss-swollen lips as Remmick drank from you, renewing your bond and reclaiming you as his; a dark bond tied with blood and teeth.

The friction between your legs swirled with the unique, exquisite pleasure of Remmick feeding from you. When he noticed you starting to writhe under him, your hips bucking up with an urgency, he knew you were close to something momentous.

Just the thought of being the one to bring you hurtling over the edge had his pride purring and growling.

Everything.

Everything.

Everything.

You would get everything from him and him alone.

Remmick growled and deepened his bite, his fangs burrowing further into your skin, pain and pleasure mixing and shooting through your body. The strangled noise that came out of you, something like a moan and a whine, made him shudder. His toes curled in his shoes. He used his hips to push your thighs further apart, giving himself more space to press more of himself between your legs. He wanted you to come crashing down with as much pleasure as possible.

"Come for me, sweetness," he growled, your blood and flesh filling his mouth. His grip on you tightened, using your body to steady himself as he ground himself in short, firm movements, working you closer and closer to your peak. "Come on. Come for me."

Another strangled noise came out of you. When your body tensed underneath his, Remmick knew he brought you over the edge. He quickly pressed his mouth over yours, wanting to swallow down every noise you made as you became lost in the rapture he brought you to.

"Remmick!" You cried out, the sound muffled into the greedy kiss against your mouth. "Christ! Remmick!"

The tension throughout your body snapped. You arched your back as pure ecstasy overtook your senses, your grip on Remmick tightening so much, your nails were left indentations on his skin.

Remmick didn't mind, though; he barely noticed. He was too lost in his own orgasmic-like haze, fangs still piercing your skin. Just hearing and feeling you become lost in the throes of pleasure almost had him finishing in his pants, but he kept himself from finding release so quickly.

Barely.

Just so he could finish in you.

You noticed the hint of an amused smile on Remmick's bloody lips as he unlatched and pulled away from your throat. Your brows furrowed slightly, and your grip on him loosened as he started to sit himself up, his legs still straddling you.

"Something funny?" You asked between soft breaths.

"Christ," he repeated, his smile turning into a grin. "You screamed that as you came so pretty, but there's just me, sweetness." He reached out and gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over the delicate skin under your eye as he murmured, "Just me."

You swallowed as you nodded, the delicate muscles in your throat bobbing and contracting. Remmick's pupils dilated at the sight. You were so smart. So smart and good.

He pulled his hand away and started to fiddle with your clothes. You let him, watching the movements of his hands, deft and purposeful. You helped him along by moving as needed, lifting yourself off the ground, wriggling just so.

"There we go," Remmick purred, admiring your bare legs. He reached for your undergarments, which you helped him take off by lifting your hips. He pulled them down your legs and off the tips of your toes. You lifted your head off the ground to see Remmick holding your underwear under his nose, taking in a large whiff of the remnants of your ecstasy. He exhaled a long, satisfied breath, relishing in the proof of the pleasure he gave you, and then dragged his tongue along the stain, groaning low in his throat like a pleased beast.

You felt close to finishing again just from the sight.

"Just as good as your blood," he groaned. He swiped his tongue over his lips before gently placing your underwear aside. His attention returned to you, partially bare and ready to receive, laid out like an offering all for him.

Remmick lifted your legs in his large hands. You were quick to pick up what he wanted and wrapped your legs around his waist, which he rewarded with a pat on your thigh.

"You're so smart, sweetness," he praised. He then reached down and started to fiddle his pants. "So smart and good. My pretty vampire."

"Your pretty vampire," you repeated softly. Remmick looked up from his pants and flashed you a wolfish grin.

You were definitely going to be rewarded for that.

His pretty vampire.

So smart and pretty.

The whine that came out of you as Remmick notched himself at your hole was delicious. He met the noise with a growl, reaching to hold your hips steady as you started to wriggle in anticipation. Your own hands reached up to hold his shoulders to keep him close, which got a chuckle out of Remmick.

"I ain't gonna leave you hanging, sweetness," he reassured you. "Don't you worry. You'll always get what you need from me, ain't that right?"

"Y-yeah," you stammered, your answer quivering as much as you were. You didn't think you could wait another second.

But you didn't have to.

Remmick never made you wait for anything.

Remmick pushed himself inside of you. Before you could get any sound out as your body accommodated him, he sealed his mouth over yours, greedily swallowing down every noise of your pleasure. He didn't break the connection between your mouths until he was sheathed to the hilt inside of you, the both of you panting and moaning, your breaths mixing in the night.

"You're perfect," Remmick purred, his voice a rasp. His hips started to move, pulling in and out of you. Each time he pushed back inside you, he pushed out the loveliest moans from your lips, the loveliest proof of the pleasure he gave you. "You were made for me, sweetness. Feel so perfect around me." His thrusting picked up, his obsession and possessiveness fueling his movements. His grips on your hips tightened, now his turn to keep you close.

But you weren't going anywhere.

You didn't want to go anywhere.

"Made for me," Remmick growled, his voice and thrusts becoming more wild, even as he started panting from the exertion. "Not for that boy. Not for anyone. Me, sweetness. Me." One of his hands moved from your hips to grab you by the jaw with a firm grip. "Say it. Say it."

"M-made for you!" You eked out between moans and breaths and mewls. "Made for you! Made for you! I-I was!" You were starting to babble, your mind going blank. Remmick watched as your eyes rolled back and partially closed. "Made for you! Just you! Just you!"

"That's right," he affirmed, now letting go of your jaw, reaching to grip your hips again. "You're mine, sweetness. Mine."

Remmick felt close. The feeling of release he almost had prematurely earlier returned quickly.

He adjusted both himself and you, nearly folding you in half. The new angle allowed him to go deeper, and elicited even prettier sounds from your mouth. Each audible proof of your pleasure stroked his ego just so.

His eyes, glowing red and bright in the darkness of the night, watched you intently. He watched the way your body bounced slightly with each thrust. He watched the way your eyes fluttered and rolled back into your head. He watched your parted, bloodied lips let out gasps and moans and mewls.

He had turned you into a being consumed by pleasure.

He had turned you into something more.

He had turned you into his.

Remmick came with a snarl, slamming himself against you as he finished. You felt him deep inside of you, filling you with a warmth that spread throughout your body. Tiny mewls came out of you as he rutted into you to ensure you got every drop of his release.

You would take everything he gave you.

"R-Remmick…?" You whimpered. The sound of your little voice was quick to soften his features, his feral, lusty expression morphing into something gentler. He remained inside of you as he leaned down, covering you with his body, his hands gently touching and cupping your face.

"You okay?" He asked, his thumbs carefully brushing over the skin under your eyes. Just moments ago you were consumed by pleasure, and now you looked like a delicate creature with the way you trembled all over. Your eyes, your pupils still blown wide, were even teary. Remmick started to worry he had gotten carried away with you, but felt relieved when you nodded, the hint of a satisfied smile forming at the corners of your mouth.

"Never better," you murmured. You noticed the slight furrow of Remmick's brows, and you lifted your head to close the scant space between your mouths to kiss him, to reassure him you were okay. You felt his hands tighten their grip on your face ever so slightly. He kept your mouths pressed together until he decided to break the kiss one long moment later.

Remmick kept gently stroking and admiring your face as your gaze fell to the side. He noticed the slight frown that formed on your lips, and when he shifted his gaze to see what you were staring at, he quickly saw what had you slightly frowning.

Your shared meal, which was quick to be forgotten in the midst of Remmick "ensuring you grew big and strong", had witnessed the entirety of your passion. It was watching with its dead, vacant eyes, staring blankly at the two of you with how its head had lifelessly lolled to the side.

"Guess we had an audience," you commented aloud. You and Remmick then met each other's gazes and shared a laugh the second your eyes met.

"I feel embarrassed," you admitted between breaths and through your grinning.

"How come, sweetness?" Remmick asked. He carefully started to climb off of you, and you felt him slide out of you with a wet pop. "She's dead. She didn't see anything."

"But it's the fact that it looks like she was watching us," you explained. You took the hand Remmick offered to help you to your feet, and quietly thanked him when he handed you your clothes before continuing. "It's like if a doll was watching us, you know?"

"You're too cute, sweetness," Remmick replied. Your embarrassment of a corpse watching such an intimate act was as adorable as it was amusing. It seemed you still had some humanity left in you, but that was expected since you were such a young vampire. It would take much longer before you would be as nonchalant as himself about these things.

Once you were dressed, Remmick picked you up in one arm, adjusting you so you were comfortably sitting on his forearm. With his free hand he picked up the arm of the corpse, and then started to drag it back in the direction of your home.

"Come on, sweetness," he said to you, enjoying the way your hands clung to his shoulders, "dawn's coming, and we still haven't finished our little meal."

"That's true," you hummed. You trailed one of your fingers up and down Remmick's shoulder, leaning in closer to his ear. "I could go for a bite. And maybe then some."

You felt a thrill run down your spine at the wolfish grin Remmick flashed you.

Dawn may be coming, but your night with your creator was far from over.

[ozzgin]

You're a musician who isn't exactly the most popular among fellow humans, yet your songs seem to be a hit for unholy creatures. It appears you're unwillingly summoning ghosts and monsters each time you play your beloved instrument or sing.

You've had demons track you down by the notes struck during your practice, and vampires knocking eagerly at your window, begging to be let in. Your last concert was cancelled due to bizarre, unexpected malfunctions, yet everyone left with the feeling that you must be haunted.

"Won't you come and play for me," a pallid ghoul asks, flashing his razor teeth at you.

"You just drained my two biggest fans of their blood," you reproach with an annoyed huff.

"Nonsense," he shouts, wiping the crimson liquid smudging his face. "I'm your biggest fan."

[didireadthisright]

Strings in The Dark

(Images are not mine)

Disclaimer: Stalking, mentions of death, canin typical violence, reader is called "miss" once, no specified racial identity, I actually creeped myself out writing this LOL

In short: there's a reason they warn you about giving strays attention. They might just follow you home.

-> Part 2

Idk guys, seeing Jack O'Connell wearing those fangs at the Oscar had me feeling a type of way, okay

I don't think its far fetched to think Remmick is a lonely character. I've headcanoned him to be a traveller since we don't get a lot of detail on what he gets up to when he wasn't terrorising the twins and Sammy. Because of that I doubt he's treated with a lot of trust. After all, he's some creepy stranger who only gets seen out in the dark playing his music and causing nonsense. Most people would find that off-putting. I don't think he'd be abused or anything, but I do think he'd get ignored a lot. So what if someone's didn't ignore him?

~◇~

The evening you met him had been long, humid, and stubbornly ordinary.

By the time you stepped out of the general store the sky had turned that deep violet color Mississippi evenings get in the summer, when the heat hasn’t quite left but the town is already settling into quiet. Most folks were home by then. The street lamps had just flickered on, their yellow light pooling across the dirt road and catching the drifting dust left behind by the last wagon that had passed through.

You adjusted the sack of groceries against your hip and started down the road toward home.

That’s when you heard the banjo. It wasn’t loud. Just a steady, easy rhythm rolling through the night air like the player had nowhere else to be. The sound made you glance toward the curb, where a man sat half in the glow of the streetlamp.

He had long legs stretched out in front of him and a banjo resting across his knee. His sleeves were rolled to the elbow, suspenders loose against a wrinkled shirt, and his dark hair looked like he’d pushed his hands through it a dozen times that day.

The music slowed when he noticed you looking. Datk eyes lifted curiously. Then, his mouth pulled into an easy, crooked smile.

“Well now,” he drawled, his voice thick and warm with a southern lilt that sounded like it had wandered a long way to get here. “Evenin’, miss.”

You might’ve walked past him. Most people would have. The town saw its share of traveling musicians, drifters, and strangers passing through. But something about the way he’d paused mid-song made you feel rude ignoring him entirely.

So you slowed.

“Evening,” you replied.

The man tilted his head slightly, studying you with a kind of attentive interest that felt almost flattering. “You’re out late,” he said. “Either that store keeps poor hours or someone’s been workin’ you harder than they ought to.”

“Or I’m bad at planning ahead,” you said with a small laugh, lifting the grocery sack a little.

He chuckled softly at that, his fingers idly brushing across the banjo strings and coaxing a few wandering notes from them.

“Well I’m mighty glad you did,” he said. “Been sittin’ here playin’ for near an hour and you’re the first soul who didn’t pretend I wasn’t here.”

You leaned a little against the lamp post, more tired than you cared to admit. “That bad, huh?”

“Oh, dreadful,” he said solemnly, though the grin tugging at his mouth ruined the seriousness. “Tragic even.”

His fingers began moving again, quicker this time, the tune lively and bright. It had the sort of rhythm that made your foot want to tap without asking permission.

You watched him play for a moment before asking, “You passing through?”

“Usually am,” he replied. “Name’s Remmick.” He said it casually, like it didn’t matter whether you remembered it or not.

You told him your name in return.

Remmick repeated it slowly, softer than before, like he was rolling the sound of it around in his mouth.

“That’s a lovely name,” he said and something about the way he looked at you while saying it made heat creep faintly up your neck.

He leaned back against his palms after a moment, letting the banjo rest across his lap. “You from around here?”

“All my life.”

“Hm.” His gaze drifted down the quiet road, then back to you again. “Nice little place. Folks seem close.”

“We try.”

Remmick nodded slowly, thoughtful, then he smiled again, wide enough that you caught a glimpse of crooked but clean teeth. “You look like someone who might dance,” he said.

You laughed. “Not very well.”

“That’s alright,” he replied. “Best dancers never start out good.”

The conversation drifted easily after that. It surprised you how natural it felt, standing under that humming streetlamp talking with a stranger about music and weather and the little quirks of the town.

Still… there were things about him that felt a little strange.

Once or twice, while you were talking, his attention would ossilate suddenly toward your throat. From what you could disearn in the low light it seemed like his pupils would widened slightly, and he inhaled through his nose like he was catching a scent.

At one moment, a thin line of saliva slipped from the corner of his mouth, and Remmick wiped it away with the back of his sleeve, unbothered.

“Sorry about that,” he said casually. “Been travelin’. Makes a man hungry.”

You smiled politely, though something about the way he’d said hungry made a faint chill run through you. It was probably nothing.

Eventually you shifted the grocery bag again. “Well,” you said, “I should probably get home.”

Remmick’s eyes lingered on you for a moment and then he nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said. “Probably ought to.”

He didn’t move to stand. Just stayed sitting there, watching you with that curious half-smile. “Walk safe tonight,” he added.

You gave him a small wave and started down the road. After a few steps, you couldn't stop yourself from glancing back.

He was still sitting there beneath the lamplight, banjo resting across his lap, watching you go.

You didn’t think much about it afterward.

Not that night.

The first death in town happened three nights later. Old Mr. Galloway was found in his barn at dawn, pale as wax.

The doctor said it was probably some sort of wild dog. Folks whispered otherwise.

Then another person died.

Then another.

Always late at night. Always strange. And always pale.

You didn’t think about the musician when the rumors started. At least… not at first.

But around that same time, you began noticing small things. Like sometimes, walking home after dusk, you’d get the sudden prickling sensation that someone was behind you. Every time you turned around, the road was empty.

One morning you stepped outside and noticed footprints in the dirt near your window. Large ones, too large to belong to you. They circled the house once before disappearing into the road. You told yourself it was probably someone passing through.

Still, that night, you locked the door twice. Then three times because it kept on happening.

A few days later you woke up with the unsettling feeling that someone had been standing outside your bedroom window. But when you pulled the curtain aside, the yard was empty. But the dirt below the window had been disturbed. Like someone had stood there a long time.

The feeling of being followed grew worse after that. Sometimes you’d glimpse a tall silhouette across the street at dusk. Other times you’d hear movement outside your house just after midnight. Once, terribly, you could have sworn you heard someone breathing through the open window.

The night you finally saw him again, rain was pouring down hard enough to turn the road to mud.

You had just finished closing the shutters when lightning flashed across the sky. The yard lit up white for half a second, and in that moment, you saw a figure standing near the fence.

Your stomach dropped violently. You moved closer to the glass despite yourself.

Another flash of lightning tore across the sky, and this time you saw his face.

Remmick.

He stood in the mud, slacks soaked through and muddy, short dark curls plastered against his forehead. And he was smiling.

The moment your eyes met his, his grin widened. He sauntered closer to the house like he’d been waiting all evening before stopping right at the window.

“Remmick?” you said through the glass.

He tilted his head. “Well now,” he said softly, voice muffled by the rain and glass between them but unmistakable. “There she is.”

Up close, you could see something was terribly wrong. His pupils were enormous. His lips were parted slightly, and thick strands of drool slid slowly down his chin.

“Sorry,” he said with a crooked grin as he wiped it away with the back of his hand, breathing a little heavier than normal “You smell real nice tonight.”

Your blood ran cold.

“What are you doing here?”

“Been keepin’ an eye on you,” Remmick said easily as he leaned closer to the window, peering inside like he had every right to be there.

The casual way he said it made your stomach twist, “…What?”

He shrugged one shoulder, “You were kind to me.” The southern drawl in his voice slipped slightly, something older and Irish curling through his words. “That don’t happen often.”

Rain streamed down his face as he spoke, but he didn’t seem to notice. His gaze moved slowly around the inside of your house before settling back on you.

“I was gonna kill you that night, you know,” he added conversationally.

Your breath caught, and you felt the uncomfortable sting of your heart sputtering from shock within your chest. Remmick smiled sheepishly, like he’d admitted something mildly embarrassing rather than horrific.

“Had it all planned out,” his tongue ran across his teeth, “but then you stopped and talked to me.” He let out a quiet laugh. “And I thought… well. That’s a shame.”

Your hands trembled slightly, but you forced yourself to try to regain some sense of control. “Remmick…”

His eyes softened, but not with kindness. Not it was with something far more dangerous.

“I like you,” he said simply. Another thread of saliva slipped from the corner of his mouth as his gaze drifted down your throat. “So instead I been followin’ you around like a lovesick fool.”

“I’m thinkin’ maybe I’ll keep you,” he continued quietly. “Turn you. Let you stay with me.”

The sweetness in his tone made the words even worse. “You’d like that eventually,” he murmured.

You shook your head, backing away from the window.

“Ah,” he sighed. “Still gotta invite me in, sweetheart.”

“No.”

For the first time, a flicker of disappointment crossed his face, "Please?"

“You can’t come inside?”

Remmick smiled slowly, “Not unless you ask me to.”

He rested his forehead against the glass, fogging it slightly with his breath, “It's alright, I’m patient.” His voice dipped low and warm, “And you smell better every night.”

“God, you don’t even know what you do,” he murmured. The words weren’t accusatory, they were almost… awed.

Lightning cracked across the sky, bright enough to throw his face into sharp relief. For a split second, the thing underneath him showed through, elongated teeth peaking from lips, eyes burning. You dont know if you flinched from the noise or him.

And that more than anything seemed to settle something in him as he slowly pushed himself away from the window then, stepping back into the rain, his eyes never leaving you.

“Now why don't you go to bed, darlin,” he said gently as the darkness slowly swallowed him. “I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

[didireadthisright]

Strings In The Dark - Part II

(Images are not mine)

Disclaimers: canon typical violence, mild sexual assault/misconduct, mentions of stalking, desperate Remmick, implied death, reader is female but has no implied racial identity

In short: you tried to skip town after learning about your stalker

-> Part 1

GUYS I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG AHHH

Listen, I actually never intended to make a part II. But I've seen a lot of people enjoy my little pathetic stalker Remmick fic, so I've decided to slap you with a cheeky finale.

It's not perfect, I'm sure I've lost his accent at some point during the writing process (and I'll tweak that post-post). I get really nervous about writing character x reader stuff sometimes because I worry I'm poorly representing characters ans their motivations BUT a really cool person sent me a fun request for Remmick and lowkey inspired me to do a part II.

I wanted him to be horrorfic, yk? To me, he juxtaposes the classic vampire vibes. He's feral and slimy.

So thank @lulaaaaaaw for inspiring me

I've tagged people who wanted a part II, but if you want to be tagged into my next fics feel free to leave a comment or dm personally <3

IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18 PLEASE SIT THIS ONE OUT

~◇~

For three nights, the music had been a slow-motion execution.

​Remmick didn't play the lively tunes anymore. Instead, he sat on your porch, his back against the wood, and coaxed a low, mournful drone from the banjo that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards and into your very bones.

Every hour or so, the music would stop, followed by the soft thud of his head leaning back against whatever surface separated you from him.

​"You still awake in there?" he’d murmur, his voice a honeyed rasp through the oak. "I can hear your heart, darlin’. It’s skittering like a trapped bird. Why don’t you just let me in so we can both get some rest?"

​By the fourth day, your nerves were frayed to a translucent thread. You weren't going to wait for the wood to rot or your resolve to break.

You had a single suitcase packed. You left when the sun was fully up, heart hammering against your ribs. Your plan was simple: the 10:00 AM train to Memphis.

By the time the sun dipped low enough for Remmick to crawl out of whatever hole he hid in during the day, you would be three counties away.

​But the world seemed to conspire with him.

"Ten o’clock ain't runnin’, miss." The agent said, squinting at you with a dull, watery gaze.

​Your stomach did a slow, sickening roll. "What do you mean? It’s on the board."

​"Board don’t account for a collapsed trestle over the Black Creek," he replied, gesturing vaguely north with a stained thumb. "Maint’nance crew’s been out there since three this mornin’. Won't have the iron steady 'til sundown, if then."

​"But I have to leave," you pressed, your fingers twitching toward your suitcase. "Is there a coach? A freight line?"

​He let out a dry, hacking chuckle that sounded like gravel in a tin can. "Nothin' movin' north 'til the 9:00 PM outbound. You want a seat on that one or you plannin' on walkin' through the swamp?"

​You looked back toward the town, toward the direction of the house you had just fled. "The nine o'clock," you whispered. "Please."

​He took your money with agonizing slowness, his ink-stained fingers fumbling with the cardstock ticket. "Suite yourself. It’s gonna be a long wait. Try not to wilt in the heat."

​You sat on the hard wooden bench of the platform all day, clutching your bag. You watched the shadows stretch. You watched the gold of the afternoon turn into the bruised purple of the evening.

Sitting there, you had an uncomfortable realisation that the station wasn't a building, just a raised wooden platform with a tin roof, open to the humid Mississippi air on all sides.

When ​the sun slipped below the horizon, the first crickets began to chirp, you had created a mantra in you head:

Just one more hour, you told yourself. Just sixty minutes and I’m gone.

​Then, the wind shifted, and you smelled it.

​It wasn't the humid scent of magnolias or the dry dust of the tracks. It was the sharp, metallic tang of a butcher’s shop after a long, hot day.

You stood up, backed toward the edge of the platform, and scanned your surroundings. A figure stumbled out of the darkness.

At first, you thought it was a drunkard by the way he was swaying, his gait heavy and uneven. But then the light of the platform’s lone lantern caught him as he advanced.

​It was Remmick.

​He was a disaster. His white shirt was plastered to his chest, drenched in a liquid so dark it looked like ink in the moonlight. He was shaking, his breath coming in jagged, wet hitches.

When his eyes found yours, his knees nearly buckled. A sound broke from his throat, a choked, wet sob of relief.

​"There," he rasped, his voice a broken whisper. "There you are, sweetheart."

​He didn't stop, his gait straightening into a predatory prowl. "I went to the house. I sat on the porch and I played... I played for you. But the house was silent. No heartbeat. No scent of you."

He let out a jagged, hysterical laugh, wiping his mouth with a hand that left a gruesome, red smear across his cheek. "I thought I’d lost you. I thought the world had finally swallowed the only good thing in it."

​You took another step back, your heel dangling over the edge of the wooden planks.

"What did you do, Remmick?"

​"I had to know where you went," he murmured, his pupils blown out until his eyes were nothing but twin voids of black.

"The man at the livery... he didn't want to talk at first. But once I got a taste of him, once I got his memories bubblin' up in my throat... I saw you. I saw you walkin' toward the tracks."

He took a shuddering breath, his face contorting in a mix of agony and adoration. "I thought I’d be too late, that the iron monster would’ve taken you already. But you’re still here."

​The casual horror of his words snapped the final thread of your composure. Your survival instinct screamed. You didn't say a word; you simply turned and bolted toward the far end of the platform, your boots thudding frantically against the wood as you dove for the stairs.

​You didn’t get five feet.

The impact was a sudden, violent weight. He tackled you from behind, the sheer force of his momentum sending you both sprawling onto the dusty floorboards. The air left your lungs in a painful wheeze. Before you could even draw breath to shriek, he had you pinned.

​He straddled your waist, his heavy weight anchoring you to the wood. One of his hands caught both of your wrists, pinning them above your head with effortless, bruising strength. The other hand, cold and slick with something wet, clapped firmly over your mouth.

​"Hush now," he hissed, his face inches from yours. His pupils were so blown out there was no color left, just two black voids. "Hush, hush, hush."

​He didn't bite. Instead, he collapsed forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You felt a terrifying combination of moisture soaking into your collar: the cool spray of his breath, the drip of saliva, and the sticky smear of the blood on his clothes.

"Thank the stars for that broken bridge," he choked out. The Southern drawl was thick, but a sharp, Gaelic lilt began to curl like smoke around the edges of his words. "Thank the rot an' the rust for keepin’ ya here. I’d have died... I’d have just walked into the sun if that train had taken ya away."

He didn't just hold you; he worshipped you with a messy fervor. His mouth moved against your skin in a series of frantic, sloppy kisses that left dark, iron-scented smears across your collar.

You bucked beneath him, a scream dying behind his blood-slicked palm. You thrashed, your heels digging into the grit as you tried to worm your way out from under his crushing, dead weight. You managed to free one hand, your nails raking down the side of his neck, drawing thin lines of greyish-red.

​He didn't even flinch. He didn't see it as a fight; he saw it as the fluttering of a panicked bird that didn't know it was being saved.

"Shh, shh," he cooed, his nose dragging through the blood on your skin to press against your jugular. He caught your flailing hand, pinning them back above your head with a sickening crack of bone against the wooden boards.

"I know you’re scared, darlin’. The dark is big and the end is a lonely thing to think on. But it won't be sore for long. I’m gonna take such good care of you. Better than this town ever did. Better than anyone."

He shifted a bit, sliding his hips to settle atop your own. His grip on your wrists softened, his fingers tracing the veins in your wrists with a delicate, trembling touch. He was looking at you now, primal hunger and distorted devotion seeping out his pores.

"No more hidin’ behind glass an' wood," he whispered. A thick thread of saliva trailed from his lip to your collarbone, and he didn't even bother to wipe it away. "I’m gonna put the moon in your eyes, sweetheart. You’re gonna be so beautiful when you stop breathin’ and start livin’."

He leaned down again, his lips grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear.

You felt it then, the sharp, unmistakable prick of needles. The points of his teeth were testing the tension of your skin, hovering right over the pulse that was drumming a frantic, terrified rhythm for him.

You fought one last time, a desperate, sobbing heave of your chest, but he was like lead. Slowly, the fight drained out of you, replaced by a cold, hollow despair. You slumped into the dust, a broken sob escaping into his hand.

He groaned, a low, guttural sound of pure, ravenous need.

"Settle now," he murmured, his breath smelled of copper and old earth. "It’s just a change in the wind, that’s all. I’ve got you."

His grip on your wrists snapped tight again, and he pressed his hips down, pinning you deeper into the Mississippi dust. His teeth scraped downward, a slow, agonizingly deliberate graze that made your breath hitch in a pathetic sob.

"Just a taste," he whispered against your skin, his voice dropping to a warm, hypnotic thrum. "To seal the deal. To make sure you never have to feel lonesome or cold ever again. To make sure you’re mine."

As the distant whistle of the evening train finally wailed through the humid air, the sound was thin and hollow. It wasn't a rescue; it was a dirge. The train would stop at an empty platform, and you would be somewhere in the tall grass, finally, irrevocably invited into the dark.

Taglist:

@samaelisdead @ellie-luvsfics @avidreader73 @tittyittytattyatty @northeastern-b0nes @charcarr13 @sleepdeprivedwriter675 @kyriasilencedradio

[the-grimm-writer]

"Sorry to disturb a sweet thing like you at this time of night, but I'm a long way from home. Can I come in to use the bathroom? Promise I'll be out your hair the minute I'm done."

The man standing in front of you was charming as sin. Handsome, fit. His head was tilted to the side as he smiled at you, his eyes gleaming with a youthful mischief that almost hid the darkness inside of them. Almost.

Most people would let him inside without thinking twice. Southern hospitality, like your folks used to say. Doesn't ever end, even if it was the middle of the night. But you didn't.

"Sorry," you started cooking up an excuse in your head. "But my bathroom's not workin'. The plumber can't come 'til later tomorrow."

To his credit, he wasn't deterred. "Oh, that's alright, darlin'. I'm sure we could figure something out, can't we?"

"Yeah," you hesitantly agreed, keeping your hand on the door. "I'm sure someone else is still up as well. It's a big neighborhood."

He sighed, shaking his head. "I already tried the neighbors. But they sleep like the dead. And you're the only one with your lights on."

For some reason, that innocent statement about your neighbors sent a chill to run down your spine.

"I'm sorry," you said, never good with confrontation. "But I think you should go. I'm sure there's a store or gas station that's still open," you added apologetically as you went to close the door.

Your heart dropped when he stuck his foot out, hard leather boot stopping the door from closing with a soft thud.

"Let me in, sweetheart," he drawled out the pet name. His eyes connected with yours and smiled when your face paled.

He stepped forward, off the welcome mat and inside into the doorway, leaning in close to you as you instinctively backed away. Fangs peaked out as he spoke, sharp and deadly.

"I ain't gonna ask nicely again."

[yandereunsolved]

would be down for discussing some yandere ideas for sinners /nf

I'm literally so stupid for not awnsering this earlier. (ｰдｰ)

meeting Smoke and Stack in Chicago. you're a performer that saved the twins asses when they first came and they've been stuck to you like glue ever since. they go as far as abducting you from Chicago and taking you back home. what? men have needs and you weren't doin' all that well there anyway.

Smoke and Stack both survive the vampire attack and they think all the rest have burned. they did except for you. so you hide and get real pissed when the KKK comes in to kill them off. you sacrifice some of your flesh to kill them off and the twins save you from dying. from then on they feel a debt to you and become obsessed with finding a way to turn you back. they keep you tied up and grow more fond of you than they should. Sammie is going off so you're really the only one they have left to take care of.

wlw with yandere Mary. after she turns into a vampire she gets the balls to confess and forcibly turns you.

Sammie being heads over heels for you but you leave for the big city. after the events of Sinners he chases after you. all of his music is inspired by you and when he gets more famous he manages to find you. he is determined to win you over by any means necessary.

You being a spirit Sammie is able to summon. He becomes enamored with hitting the right chords so he can see you again. Even if it's only brief, he'll sing and strum till his voice leaves him and his fingers fall off.

Platonic yandere Annie who takes care of you like you're her child, even if you're grown. She takes you under her wing and begins to teach you her practices. she makes you keep a mojo bag on you at all times. she hardly wants you out of her sight.

Romantic yandere Annie who knows she should wait for Smoke. She loves him but he's gone. So she finds solace in you. Soon enough she finds herself unable to live without you.

Platonic yandere Delta Slim who took you up off the streets and has been protecting you since. One of the other characters is a romantic yandere for you and Delta isn't too keen on the idea.

Bo and Grace Chow who become mutually interested in a newcomer who they end up hiring to work in their shop.

You being Pearline's favorite author or singer. You come through and she ends up meeting you. She swears her heart stops. She feels like a fool. She wants to run off and follow you as you travel.

Remmick manages to escape with a few of his thralls. Sammie manages to evade his grasp but he finds you, a sweet little thing who linked up with Sammie. The funny thing is you found Sammie because you both have the same rare ability. Looks like he has a new soul he'll toy with. If Sammie won't accept him then he'll kill the boy and take you as his thrall. He just needs to see all those yummy things you have inside you.

A victim—vampire hunter—that has managed to escape Remmick numerous times. Now he's down bad for you. He'll bed you one day soon and sink his fangs deep into that intoxicating flesh of yours.

[love-and-monsters]

"I don't think we're supposed to be here," your friend whispered.

"Yeah," you whispered back. "Me neither."

It had been a normal trip to the aquarium that had turned into a normal trip to find the bathroom that had turned into whatever the hell this is.

In all honesty, this is the aquarium's fault. They've never heard of 'clearly labeled bathrooms' obviously, and this definitely isn't your fault for not picking up a map. You were trying to have an adventure!

And now you have adventured into the back part of the building, well past where the public are supposed to be. And the newest exhibit is staring at you.

She's like a mermaid, except from the waist down, she's all spines and sharp-shelled lobster bits. Her hair is constantly drifting behind her, swaying in the subtle currents of the pool she's in. And, despite the pane of glass separating the two of you, she's giving you a sharply superior look, like you're the ones trapped, not her.

Also, you still have to pee. Which is annoying.

"Is this legal?" your friend breathes. "Is she intelligent? Is this, like, slavery?"

"I don't know."

"Should we leave?" Your friend is clinging your arm.

"Hang on," you say. You start to approach the edge of the tank. The mermaid drifts closer. You can see all the sharp, chitinous edges of her limbs. Her colors are striking, a deep, pinkish red and off white in tigerlike stripes along her body. The stripes continue along her back and arms.

"Do you need help?" you whisper, one of your hands reaching out to touch the glass. She stares as she pressed her palm over yours. Her nails are long, thicker than a normal human's, and sharp.

Her eyes are dark as the depths of the sea. "Do you need help?" you whisper. "I can try to help you."

She leans in, her forehead nearly pressed to the glass of the tank.

And then your friend shrieks as an aquarium worker appears in the doorway. "Hey! You guys shouldn't be back here!"

"Shit!" your friend yelps, then another, higher yelp as the worker pulls out--it's either a taser or a gun, you can't tell from your angle. You don't want to find out.

"Run!" You bolt along the edge of the tank. The worker follows you. The mermaid does, too, scrambling along the inside of the tank.

Toward the back of the tank, there's a ladder. It leads to an observation platform, right at the top. You scramble onto it, your friend at your heels.

"Is this a good idea?" your friend whimpers. But you're already committed. You pull yourself up to the top of the tank and onto the observation platform. The mermaid stops a foot or so away. Her body strains against something, like she's caught by a length of wire.

The worker climbs up last. You brace yourself. Your friend hunches against your side.

The object is a taser, now that you see it better. You wait until it's leveled at your chest. Then, as soon as the finger starts to close on the trigger, you lunge.

Your foot catches an ankle and you hook it around enough to stagger the worker. They fumble and try to regain balance and run into the reason you wanted to use the observation platform: the water.

Their foot shoots sideways. Their momentum goes the other direction. The end result is them skidding ti the edge of the platform and then a little further.

They sink into the water. The stun takes them a moment to shake before they start frantically kicking for the surface.

They're too late. The mermaid has already grabbed them.

There's a bloom of red in the water. There are also chunks.

"Oh shit," your friend mumbles against your shoulder. "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit-"

The mermaid still drifts under the water, like she's afraid or unable to fully surface. You can still make out her eyes, even through the red-tinged currents. They're wide and pleading and desperate.

"Okay," you say. "Let's come up with a plan to get us all out of here."

[corajnx]

Yandere [WALLY DARLING] Headcanons | WELCOME HOME

He loves to lean on you, going limp when you hug him, and asks to be held all the time. He loves it when you put kisses all over his face and tell him how much of a good boy he is.

He's devoted to you and brings you gifts, paintings, phone calls, and all the attention you could want all the time.

You would never truly be alone again!

Even now, with you two together, he's still soft-spoken, smiling, and polite. This is probably why his obsession with you would feel sweet at first...until it becomes suffocating.

He is possessive, but not in an aggressive sense. More like, "Of course we belong together! We are best friends! We understand each other the most."

He genuinely believes he loves you "the most."

He likes to say that a lot, "You're my most!"

He would want to spend all his time with you, and since he prefers to hang out with Home, he would also want you to stay inside a lot.

He watches you. Always. That constant eye contact can feel very creepy, but he doesn't really understand that.

He pops out wherever you are, as if he knows exactly where you will be. When you ask him how he knew you would be there, he just shrugs and smiles, "Just a hunch."

He wouldn't understand why you would ever want to distance yourself from him. After all, you are two halves of an apple! Do you not enjoy his company anymore?

He would invade your space constantly without realizing he's suffocating you. Sitting too close, holding your hand so "we don't get lost," staring at you while you sleep, touching your hair...

He wants to know everything about you. Your likes and dislikes, fears, ambitions, what you talk with the other neighbors, what you dream about at night, your favorite foods and drinks, and even how often you get up to pee...

Before you know it, he will be very dependent on you, and you will be the center of his world.

This would also be clear from his art. Oil paintings of you everywhere, sketches of your eyes, sculptures of your bust, poems about your beautiful smile...whenever you point out how "too much" this is, and that he needs to chill out a bit, he would joke that you are his "muse".

If you ignore him, he will deteriorate fast and become even more obsessed with you.

He would also be confused and distressed, and kept asking, "Did I do something wrong? Don't you love me anymore?"

He would look so heartbroken it would make you second-guess yourself, to be honest. Maybe it's not as bad as you think? Maybe you just have commitment issues, and that's why you feel so overwhelmed with Wally's love?

If you try to leave, he might physically stop you without realizing how frightening it his, especially since Home seems to always be on his side.

Home absolutely enables him, by the way. They constantly open the doors for him whenever they notice you are passing by, creaking when you go to another room, locking themselves to keep you inside even longer, the hallways somehow always leading you back to him, lights flickering when you try to leave....

He's still gentle with you, though, and would never lay a hand on you. This makes you even more confused, however, and makes it even harder to understand if something is really wrong or if this is just one of those usual ups and downs every couple has from time to time.

He can't imagine you actually wanting to leave him, so he would just assume you are tired, upset, confused, or joking. Because, come on, anything else would make no sense!

He gets jealous often, but never says anything about it because he doesn't want to push you further.

Whenever someone gets too close to you, however, he starts to stare again and interrupts conversations in hopes of pulling your attention back onto himself.

He also sits between you and others, smiling the entire time as if nothing is wrong, and hugs you or kisses your hands so that the others know you are his and he is yours.

During all of this, he would still sound sweet and kind and smile warmly to you.

This doesn't change even when he does unsettling things like collecting things connected to you, like notes, clothes, things you touched, things you forgot, and even trash like half-eaten fruit because your lips touched it.

Yeah, he would treasure them like gifts and have his own altar that he sometimes sits and watches for hours at night.

He would ask you to move in with him, so you could be "together forever." He already prepared everything, too. When did he do that? Well, since you guys first met, of course!

If someone upsets you, Wally wouldn't yell or anything and would just focus on cheering you up first. Though there will be a little visit to the neighbor at some point when you are not looking, with a little "You were mean to my friend. We can't have that."

At his worst, he would isolate you from your friends and family. It doesn't happen overnight, either. He does it so slowly, you don't even realize it until the only person in your life left is him and Home.

Eventually, it becomes difficult to interact with anyone without Wally being there between you two.

He would guilt-trip you without even meaning to. "Don't you have fun with me? I thought you liked being here. You said we were friends. Did I do something to upset you? Whatever it is...I'm sorry, you know? I would never want to push you away."

He sounds so sad and sincere that it feels like you are the bad guy here. It becomes exhausting to refuse him.

At some point, he would start treating your life as something shared with him automatically. He would rearrange your belongings, decide where you two go, speak for you, finish your sentences, and say "we" constantly.

He becomes controlling while sounding supportive. "You should rest now, you had a long day. You don't need to talk to her; she was really rude to you. Just sit, I'll cook something for you."

Whenever you are not around, he becomes increasingly distressed. At first, he tries to patiently wait, then he follows you around, then he just goes out with you whenever you try to meet other neighbors, until he just can't handle being without you even for a second.

His smile becomes unsettling sometimes. Especially since he insists on smiling even when he's upset or crying. He smiles even while he is saying something that should sound threatening, but comes out soft instead. Thankfully, this is not something you see.

If he thought someone was “taking you away,” he could become dangerous. Would it be really bad if someone "disappeared" if it meant you two were happy?

He doesn't really understand his own emotions, especially something like anger. He usually becomes cold and detached, and tends to hide until he feels normal again.

Whenever those people "disappear," Wally would see that as protecting you, keeping you safe and happy.

He genuinely believes that you are better off with him, even if you cry and beg to be left alone. He just caresses you and says, "You'll feel better soon, don't worry."

He just fails to understand why. Why are you sad? Why are you scared? Why do you want to run away? This, instead of stopping him, just makes him double down.

If you still insist on pushing him away, he would cling to you, lock the doors, and refuse to let you out of his sight. He would plead with you and say, "Please don't leave me alone. I have only you. You're my dear. What will I do if I don't have you anymore?"

And if you did return his affection after all? He would calm instantly, frighteningly fast, and would be back to the sweet, soft-voiced Wally that you had fallen in love with, painting beside you as if nothing had happened, as though his behavior was completely justified because now everything is "fixed."

At least now, if there is anyone else you don't want in the neighborhood anymore, you could just say that to Wally and he would just...you know. There is no line he would not cross for you 🖤

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

It's self-indulgent fanfiction time!

If you like my work, please consider commissioning me or leaving a tip on Ko-fi (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

Wally when he wants the Readers attention

★ Wally has a knack for finding ways to keep your focus on him. He’ll offer you a flower he picked, ask you to help him with something trivial, or sit beside you and draw quietly. Hoping you’ll join in. Delighted when you do.

★ You didn't know how, but Wally always finds his way to wherever you are. Doesn't matter if you’re reading with Frank, Helping Howdy with the bodega, or just relaxing with Poppy. He quietly settles nearby, his eyes fixed on your figure with a soft smile. Too polite to interrupt whatever it is your doing.

★ He wants your attention. Even when he doesn’t say anything, his actions tell you. The way he lingers close to you. How his eyes light up when you smile. And the way he fidgets with his hands as you finally give him your attention. That tells you more than words could.

★ Occasionally, he'll ask you a question that shows how much he craves your praise. “You like spending time with me, don’t you?” He’ll ask, his voice soft and sickly sweet. When you say yes, you do like spending time with him. A lovesick grin leaves his face, blushing slightly.

★ On particularly needy days, Wally might hold onto your hand or sleeve. Question what he's doing, and he tells you “I just like being close to you” without hesitation. In Wally's eyes, there's no reason for him to be embarrassed. You are his, and he is yours.

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

Thought it would be cute to write about the Reader, a human, being naturally warm. Much to the confusion of the neighborhood. Who doesn't understand why that is.

If you like my work, please consider commissioning me or leaving a tip on Ko-fi (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

Carrying warmth

★ The first to notice was Home. When you opened her door, she felt the warmth of your palm linger. It stayed in the brass. Lasting for a few seconds before fading. Sunlight would be the best comparison for how it felt.

★ Other neighbors leave no warmth behind. They aren't made of things that produce heat. Likewise, Home enjoys it when you lay on the carpet or floor. A blanket thrown over you as you draw, read, or just watch TV. These cozy moments are quite soothing for them.

★ On colder days, Poppy thinks of you. About how you're always warm like the glowing coals of a fire. However, unlike a fireplace, you don't make her anxious to be around. In fact, it's actually comforting! But telling you that might be embarrassing... So she doesn't.

★ Of course Frank had to ask about it. How your body could generate its own heat. He thought it was like how Sally could glow. Some kind of special magic. But no, you just have organs that use energy to generate heat.

★ Not only do you run warm. But getting too cold could be the death of you. Hypothermia causing your heart to fail on you. Best not to mention that part, though. Not unless you want to see some very concerned faces.

★ Overheating is also a possibility. Though it's not something you think to worry about. Temperatures in Home are almost always comfortable. You don't know where exactly you are. But assuming it's somewhere close to the equator feels like a safe bet.

★ Wally likes to place his hands on the crook of your neck. Where he can feel your pulse. Why he does this, you don't know. But saying you don't like it would be a lie.

★ If only Julie could keep you next to her as she hibernates. That'd be nice... Like a heating pad that doesn't need to be turned off. Realistically, you could never stay for that long. But laying down next to her until she falls asleep? That's something you could manage.

★ She tucks you in, then pats around the blanket. Not unlike a cat kneading biscuits. "If you need anything, tap twice. I'll wake up..." She says, voice worn out by the day's adventure. You won't. But the offer is still there.

[floatyflowers]

Dark! Jareth x Sarah's Mother! Reader

The rain hits the windows of your modest home like a thousand tiny fists, mirroring the storm raging inside you.

It was a night you'd never forget, thirteen years ago, when Sarah was just three months, her tiny form curled up in her crib upstairs, oblivious to the shattering of her world. Your husband, even now, the word tastes bitter, had stormed out after another screaming match.

The usual accusations flew 'You're too dreamy, too lost in your books and fantasies. Grow up! This isn't some fairy tale!'

You'd collapsed onto the living room floor, tears streaming, clutching a worn copy of The Labyrinth, that old storybook Sarah adored.

The words blurred on the page, but in your desperation, they whispered promises of escape. "I wish... I wish the Goblin King would come and take me away," you sobbed, the words tumbling out like a spell you didn't believe in. "Right now!"

The clock struck midnight. A chill wind snaked through the cracks in the walls, carrying the faint jingle of bells.

You looked up, heart pounding, and there he was, framed in the doorway like a shadow given form.

Jareth, the Goblin King, his eyes lightening up with mischievous delight under a cascade of wild blond hair, his leather-gloved hand extended, a crystal orb glowing in his palm.

"Did you call for me, my lady?" His voice was gentle and charming, laced with that intoxicating mix of mockery and hunger.

Before you could back away, and before sanity could claw its way back, he seized your wrist.

When the spinning stopped, you were in his kingdom, a labyrinth of twisted hedges, crumbling castles, and skies that bled eternal twilight.

Jareth's grip on you was ironclad, his body pressing close as he pulled you through corridors of stone that shifted like living things.

"You've wished yourself to me," he whispered against your ear, his breath hot and spiced with something otherworldly.

"And now, you're mine. No take-backs, darling. The old laws bind you."

"I have a husband and a daughter!"

"Your husband is more of a disadvantage and your daughter will grow up to forget you."

You fought at first, screaming, clawing at his arms, demanding he send you back. But Jareth was patient in his obsession and possession of you.

He showered you with gifts, gowns of silk that perfectly hugged your body, and even books and trinkets he got for you from the human world.

Also, he held balls and feasts in your honour to make your imprisonment feel less suffocating.

Sixteen years passed like a blur, in it you became the queen of the Labyrinth and slowly but painfully ended up warming up to Jareth and accepting your fate as his wife.

But it was strange and confusing when Jareth one day returned back from one of his errands, holding a baby in his arms, telling you that his sister wished him away.

Feeling pity, you took care of Toby, treating him kindly just like you used to do with your daughter.

When the gates of the Labyrinth opened once more, you never expected to see the girl stepping through, eyes bright, defiant, a familiar determination burning in her expression.

Sarah.

You froze, the world tipping beneath your feet as memories flooded back, her giggles, her tiny hands gripping yours, the scent of rain the night you lost everything.

"...Mom?" she breathed, voice trembling between disbelief and hope.

Indeed, it's you, the beautiful woman from the only picture she owns of you.

You barely managed to nod before she ran into your arms. The years melted away in an instant, she clung to you like a child again, and you buried your face in her hair, tears slipping free.

"I thought you were gone," she explained, shaking.

"Dad said...He said you left us."

You pulled back, cupping her face gently.

"I didn't leave, sweetheart. I wished myself away and the wish was heard.”

Behind you, a soft laugh broke the moment, that teasing tone you had come to know too well.

Jareth stepped forward from the shadows, crystal in hand, his eyes shining with quiet triumph.

"And now, my dear Sarah, you see it wasn't all for nothing."

Sarah turned sharply, her body tensing.

"You! You put me through that, the Labyrinth, the riddles, all of it!"

He only smiled, tilting his head.

"You took the first step and wished your baby brother away, and your mother is happily married to me."

"You expect me to believe that?" she spat.

Jareth's gaze softened slightly, not mockery, but something deeper, weary, almost human.

"Believe what you wish, little girl. But I offer you a choice: stay here, with her, where no time can touch you, or return to your world, where she will fade again into memory."

Sarah turned to you, conflict written across her face. "I can’t lose you again," she said with worry.

You smiled sadly, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.

"And you won't. Not this time."

Your idea had formed long ago, a wish of your own.

You looked to Jareth, whose expression darkened with a hint of wary curiosity.

"I want us to go with her," you said firmly.

"You said wishes bind by old laws. Then grant me this one. Let us live together, in the mortal world.”

He blinked, clearly startled, then a slow grin spread across his face. "You would cage the Goblin King in the mortal realm?"

You stepped closer, fingers finding his gloved hand. "Maybe it’s time you see what a home feels like."

For a long, silent moment, he searched your eyes, seeing you stare pleadingly at him.

Then, with a low, resigned chuckle,

"As you wish."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Six Months Later

The new house was comfortable, with a garden that was slowly becoming less wild under your care. You were tending to the roses, while watching Sarah and her stepfather circled each other with plastic swords.

"En garde!" Sarah laughed, lunging forward.

Jareth parried with theatrical flair, his wild hair now more tamed, his leather replaced with jeans and a simple shirt. He looked almost human, though his eyes still held that otherworldly gleam.

"Your form is improving," he conceded, "though you still telegraph your strikes."

"Maybe you're just getting old," Sarah teased.

Your ex-husband was shocked when you returned home with Sarah and Toby, you told him everything and both of you agreed that Sarah stays with you.

"I yield!" Jareth declared suddenly, dropping his sword. "Your mother's roses need tending, and I find myself drawn to more pleasant company."

Sarah rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "I will be inside. Don't be too disgustingly romantic, you two."

You laughed as she bounded toward the house, and then Jareth was walking toward you, his movements still holding that inhuman grace despite his mortal appearance.

He knelt beside you in the grass, uncaring of the dirt, and gently took the shears from your hands.

"Do you ever regret it?" you asked softly.

"Everything you gave up?"

His fingers found yours, intertwining with a tenderness that still surprised you. "I gave up nothing," he murmured, bringing your hand to his lips.

"I ruled a Kingdom , but I was alone. Here, with you, with Sarah, this is what I have been searching for across centuries."

"Even with the mortgage and the broken dishwasher?"

He laughed, the sound rich and warm.

"Even with those." His other hand came up to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheek.

"You wished for escape that night, and I took you. But you gave me something far more precious, you taught me what it means to choose love over power."

The Labyrinth still existed, waiting in the spaces between worlds, but Jareth had chosen something more precious: a family, a home, a life built on honest ground.

He leaned in, kissing you soft, and you thought of that desperate wish you had made years ago.

The Goblin King had come and taken you away.

But in the end, you had both found your way home.

After pulling away from him, you smile.

"please remember this afternoon we have to attend our neighbour's funeral, the poor man fell off the stairs while changing a light bulb."

"How unfortunate."

Indeed, how unfortunate that Jareth is the one who pushed him off.

Old habits die hard.

[yukito-ssan]

thalas

[nataliehall]

Hey look it’s your boyfriend

[spicymotte]

the offering

[fecofish]

Bi panic gaucho snufkin

[haridraws]

happy pride month to everyone - to other disabled people, to people who don’t fit into neat labels, to people made to feel they’re not queer ‘enough’. To people who get shit for being out & people who can never be out, i’m thinking of you all, i love you

[haridraws]

When I drew this, I wrote a blog alongside about the tension between being a ‘palatable’ trans or queer person vs genuinely being yourself, and why it means so much to me to tell queer stories - in the current climate, I think it feels more relevant than ever.

For this pride, I just unlocked it for anyone to read here.