#ahs fic

[redroses07]

said what i said

[illumoria]

────────────────୨ৎ───────────────˚ ༘ .⋆𖥔 ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖۶ৎ pre - zombie kyle spencer x reader

what your camera roll looks like dating kyle + explanations!

masterlist!

1: he sent you this photo while at one of his frat parties, definitely a little tipsy ... but the photo you sent back with your little smile made it worth getting made fun of by his brothers from how stupid he looked with his tongue out.

2: sent this one to you when you complained about having a bad day and immediately locked in, posing all attractive with his side profile. sending you a "did that brighten your day?" and then smiling like a kid in a candy store when you said yes.

3. one of the many photos you've taken of him. this one was at a local coffee shop you'd taken him to a little too early in the morning. the whole walk he was complaining (playfully of course..) but as soon as the camera landed on him he was all smiles.

4. this one you think is the funniest photo you have of him. it was completely unplanned. you'd been walking along the sidewalk by some shops, just about to enter a sandwich place for lunch before you heard his painstakingly familiar voice. you looked back to see him getting a speeding ticket–unaware you were there. you instantly snapped a photo–and when you showed it to him later? he couldn't stop blushing and covering his face, laughing through his embarrassment.

"I swear I'm a good driver!"

5. from a fancy shmancy event his fraternity had organized. you were so ecstatic he'd finally decided to wear something other than jeans and t-shirts that you took like 10 photos–but this one you decided was your favorite. especially since all the other ones were blurry...he just couldn't stop laughing at how giddy you were.

"it's just a suit."

"I know! but you never dress up! here–say cheese!"

"cheeeeese." he smiled, eventually bursting into laughter when you made another comment on how cute he looked.

6. another moment where he was trying to contain his laughter. you both had tried to do a "try not to laugh challenge" with water in your mouths (knowing he'd fail..) so when you saw even the tiniest of smiles begin to curl his lips, you instantly snapped a photo, catching that split second before he spat the water out and admitted defeat.

7. felt unusually photogenic that day and begged you to take a photo of him. when you showed it to him he immediately kissed your cheek before taking your phone, zooming in on himself like he was checking for any mistakes.

"this should totally be your wallpaper."

"what?"

"c'mon, you're mine!"

"I am?"

"duh!"

(he secretly changed it anyways)

8. surprising him at his frat house early in the morning only to be greeted by this when you walked into his room while he was getting ready...safe to say he has a love-hate relationship with you and the photos you take of him..

9. his official fraternity photo that you screenshot off their website. each time you sent it to him or teased him about it, he'd immediately groan and flop over on top of you like he was spineless.

"it's so embarrassing..I look scared."

"you look so cute! what do you mean?"

"you're biased."

"I totally am."

10. + live photo from the coffee shop!!

line dividers: @/hyuneskkami

[strawb3rrystar]

Kinktober Day 8: Multiple orgasms

Pairing: Franken! Kyle Spencer x Fem! Reader

Warnings: handjob, dacryphilla, sub! kyle, cum eating, overstimulaton, slight somno, leads into light dubcon area but that's probably bc of his backstory

Word count: 530

✰Masterlist

Kyle woke you up with his pathetic little whimpers, grinding his cock into your thigh, searching for a release. Of course, being the wonderful girlfriend you are, you had to give him a hand. You pulled down his pajama bottoms and underwear, his length hitting his stomach. Kyle whines, precum making his tip glistening. He was bucking his hips before you even laid a hand on him. Soothing him by kissing his hip, your finger teasing his slit. Kyle was nearly in tears, bubbling out a nonsense of words. He must've been so pent up. You were very busy that day and hadn't had the chance to have sex with him. He was rock hard, almost painfully so.

He let out the most pathetic moan you've ever heard when you started jerking him off. Fingers curling around your bedsheets as he tries to stop himself from sobbing. You took care of him so well he just couldn't help it. As much as he squirmed and wiggled, your touch never let up. Kyle was leaking so much that his entire length was slick within a few strokes. He bit his bottom lip, trying to hold everything back, but he was cumming after only a few minutes. And yet, he was still hard as bricks. So you didn't stop.

Small tears slip down his cheeks, silently begging you to give him a break. You cooed, using his own cum as more lube to jerk him off. Even if he did beg, it would be fruitless, he wanted you to touch him. If you didn't he would just grind on your thigh until he came in his underwear. All the tears would be a dried up waste come morning. Besides how could you stop when he looked so pretty? His back arched off the bed, head tilted as he came for the second time. Kyle's chest heaved, his body trembling. You licked some of his cum off your hand, the taste of salt and musk on your lips. After giving him a small break, he was still hard. So, obviously, you had to jerk him off again.

Kyle was feeling so overstimulated by his fourth orgasm. I suppose being dead gave him extra stamina. Or, whoever's dick he had now was just better than his old one. Either way, he was barely keeping his eyes open as you jerked him off for the fifth time. It had been over an hour since he woke you up by now. He didn't even have anymore tears left to cry. All he could do was let out small whimpers, his body feeling limp for the most part. His cock was twitching, throbbing in your hand, a sign that he was close again. Without much effort, he came for the last time. His orgasm took such an intense rush over his body that he passed out from it. So, you took it upon yourself to clean up. Grabbing some tissues to wipe up the cum that landed on his stomach. Giving your hands a much needed wash. And finally, tucking his now flaccid cock back into his bottoms before cuddling him into your chest for the night.

Star's notes -> Kyle has pathetic wet dog syndrome

(This is day 8 of Kinktober 2024, for full list see here)

Taglist -> @marchsfreakshow @comewhatmayy @americangoofball444 @urmomsg1rlfreind @vondutchess4

@slut4evanpeters @httpstes @tommysaxes @songbird-garden @xkaisxjazzxsingerx

@fear-is-truth @jdnymos @jazz-berry @evvyyypeters-fics

[dorianera]

LEARNING SPACE — 🤍💔

franken!kyle x witch!reader

SUMMARY: you just needed five minutes. kyle just wanted to be close. neither of you meant to hurt the other.

warnings: miscommunication, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt, quiet intimacy, tense atmosphere, mild cursing, aandd consensual kissing. (❤️)

—MASTERLIST—

You were hunched over your desk, papers scattered everywhere, your grimoire cracked open and filled with cramped notes in the margins. It was a protection spell.

The candle beside you flickered too hard, wax dripping unevenly down the side. The scratch of your pen felt too loud in the quiet room. Above, the ceiling fan spun lazily, casting slow-moving shadows that dragged across the walls.

Kyle was laid flat on your bed. At first, he had just been watching you like he always did, wide-eyed, curious, trying to understand what you were doing.

Eventually, staring up at the fan like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. His eyes followed the spinning blades, slow and steady. His mouth was slightly parted, brow faintly furrowed in concentration.

He shifted his head on the pillow and turned to look at you instead. His eyes followed the movement of your hand, the way your pen dragged across the page. He let out a small sound.

“Mm.” Soft. Thoughtful.

You didn’t respond. He waited a few seconds, still nothing.

He pushed himself up on his elbows and made another small noise, slightly louder this time. “Uh.” You inhaled, but kept writing. He sat up fully now, feet hanging off the bed, studying you. Another sound slipped out of him. “Mm.”

“Kyle, not right now,” you murmured, not looking away from your page. Silence followed, you could feel him staring.

His brows knitted together slightly, not anger, just confusion. He slid off the bed slowly, bare feet silent against the floor. You didn’t hear him approach until you felt him behind you.

He leaned forward, peering over your shoulder at the page. His breath brushed the side of your neck. His hair tickled your temple. You could smell soap and something faintly metallic that never quite left him.

You lost your place on the page.

“Kyle,” you said carefully.

He hummed in response, still reading.

Your pulse ticked behind your eyes. The candle flame flared and sputtered, reacting to your rising frustration.

“Can you just give me a minute?” you tried again.

He frowned slightly. “With you.”

“I know. I just— I need space.”

He didn’t move.

“..Space?” he repeated, like the concept didn’t quite click.

You closed your eyes for half a second, trying to breathe through it. The scratching of your pen felt unbearable now. The fan sounded louder. His breathing louder still.

He shifted again, and his hand came down on the desk beside yours — not grabbing, just bracing himself.

That was the breaking point.

“Kyle, back up!” you snapped, louder than you intended. “I can’t fucking think when you’re hovering over me!” The words hit harder than you meant them to.

He recoiled instantly.

Actually recoiled, like something had struck him. His shoulders slightly hunched. His eyes went wide and glassy with shock. He took two uneven steps back from the desk.

The room felt colder, he stared at you, stunned. “I—“ he stated, but the sentence fell apart in his throat. His hands flexed at his sides. He looked down at them, then back at you, confusion written over his face.

“You… loud,” he said quietly. Guilt washed over you so fast it made you dizzy.

“Kyle ..”

“I didn’t mean to yell,” you said immediately, pushing back from the desk. “I’m sorry. I’m just ..stressed.”

He blinked at you.

“Sss—trr..essed?,” he repeated.

“Mhm.”

He searched your face carefully, like he was trying to find the truth in it. “Not… me?” he asked.

“No, not you.”

A small pause. Then, softer, “I… wrong?”Your heart twisted. “No— no, You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He swallowed, jaw tightening faintly. You could see him trying to process it, trying to understand why the volume of your voice hurt more than the words.

He stepped back another inch on instinct, like he was giving you the “space” you’d asked for, even if he didn’t fully grasp it.

“Mmh,” he murmured, “Stay… there,” he muttered to himself, pointing at the floor where he stood, as if drawing a boundary line. You almost broke at that, moving toward him slowly this time.

He stiffened for half a second. Not afraid, just unsure, then relaxed when your hand gently took his wrist. “I don’t want you gone, Kyle,” you said softly, letting your other hand drift to his cheek, resting there. “I just needed breathing room.”

He went very still under your touch.

His skin was cool against your palm. His eyes flickered between yours, searching, measuring. He leaned, just barely, into your hand, like he was testing if he was allowed to.

“Room,” he echoed quietly, this entire conversation you were surprised how well his pronunciation had gotten.

“Yeah. When everything feels …too loud, too close… I get overwhelmed. It’s not about you.”

He frowned slightly, thinking. “Too much,” he said after a moment, tapping lightly at his own temple. You nodded. “Exactly. Too much.”

His jaw shifted faintly as he worked it through in his head. You could see the effort, the slow, deliberate processing. He wasn’t fragile. He wasn’t stupid. It just took him time to untangle feelings from reactions.

He watched your face for another second, then glanced down at your mouth. The shift was subtle. “Help?” he asked quietly.

“With?”

He hesitated. His brows pulled together, like he was trying to find the right shape for the words. “Kiss,” he said finally, voice rough but steady. “Help?”

You blinked, caught off guard, not by the request itself, but by how careful he was about it.

“..You think a kiss will help?” you asked gently. He nodded once.

Something in your chest loosened.

You studied him for a moment — the uncertainty in his eyes, the way he was holding himself still, like he’d accept a no without argument.

“It might,” you admitted. His shoulders shifted faintly, hopeful but restrained. “Okay?”

You stepped a little closer, closing the small space between you.

“Okay.”

His hand came up slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wanted. It hovered near your jaw before resting there, thumb cool against your cheek.

He leaned in carefully, slower than most people would. Like he was afraid of startling you again. The kiss was gentle, warm pressure and the faintest tremble in his mouth as he tried to get it right.

You felt him exhale against you, a soft, shaky breath. When he pulled back, he searched your face immediately. “Better?” he asked.

You let out a quiet breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Yeah,” you said, a small smile tugging at your mouth. “Better.”

[rosecoloredsunshine]

come and find me now — kyle spencer

masterlist | request link

PAIRINGS: post-death!kyle spencer x female!reader

SUMMARY: you knew that there was something wrong that's going to happen the moment zoe brought kyle back to his mother, so you took the matters into your own hands.

REMINDERS: please be reminded that this is a work of fiction. meaning that all events and occurrences in this story are all fictional and all are part of my imagination. any resemblance to actual life events and people, living or dead, are all purely coincidence.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, mentions of death (minor), reader is a witch, there are some inaccuracies, angst, hurt, comfort, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i've been very busy this week, reason why i haven't posted any fics. but i have a free time now, so i'll try to post the other fics (mostly requests). to the one who requested this, i hope it's up to your standards. enjoy! :)

The garden at Miss Robichaux’s was quiet today, magnolia trees swaying gently as their petals floated to the earth like snow. You sat beneath one of them, fingers grazing the yellowing page of an old spellbook. You were always reading, always observing. The world moved fast around you, too loud and too careless, but you took your time. You listened and you learned.

You knew things. Things the others didn't and couldn't notice, like how Queenie tapped her foot when she was lying, or how Cordelia’s smile never quite reached her eyes anymore. You definitely knew that Zoe Benson had done something reckless, the energy around her had changed that night she and Madison came back from that frat party. There was a stillness to her now, like she was holding her breath, and it wasn't long before she confided in you.

“We brought someone back,” she whispered, looking over her shoulder as though the walls might be listening. “His name is Kyle. He died, and we used resurgence.”

Your heart dropped like a boulder in your chest. A resurrection spell—a dangerous and volatile magic. Forbidden unless under direct order of the Supreme, and even then, only if it was clean, but this wasn't. You already knew that without needing to ask, though you also knew Zoe wasn't strong enough to pull it off alone.

“He didn't deserve what happened to him,” she says, voice thin and trembling. “He was a good person.”

You believe her. That's the thing, Zoe never lies, not really. She just wants to fix things, and she thought bringing Kyle back would fix it. But you also know magic like that comes with a cost. You saw it in Kyle’s eyes the day she brought him back, there was nothing behind them.

Then Misty got involved, and you understood that too. She’s a wild soul—Misty, but she knows resurrection better than anyone. You could sense her magic clinging on Kyle like vines, but still, Misty couldn't restore what had been broken. Not entirely.

The broken pieces of a boy sewn back together like some patchwork doll. The only part of him that was truly him was his head, but the rest? It was a collage of other bodies. No wonder the soul had trouble finding peace, no wonder Kyle screamed more than he spoke. His body wasn't home anymore, it was a cage. He didn't speak, he grunted, sobbed, and lashed out. There were days he sat curled up in the greenhouse, rocking himself, murmuring things that didn't make any sense.

You would always watch him from afar. You wanted to help, but he flinched at everything that wasn't Zoe.

“I’m taking him back to his mother,” she whispered to you one day. “He needs someone, someone familiar.”

You stared at her like she had grown a second head. “You can’t do that, Zoe.”

You had seen the bruises on his spirit, and it’s not the kind magic could heal. The kind left by years of secrets, you saw the way his entire body locked up when Zoe mentioned his home.

“She loves him,” she insisted. “She’ll help.”

You didn't agree, but you didn't fight her. Instead, you just watched her go, and something in your chest wouldn't settle for that.

It was like an itch you couldn't scratch, a scream you couldn't let out. Days passed, and you decided to keep your mouth shut, hands busy. But the silence got louder, it clawed your insides, gnawed at your thoughts. Then one morning, you woke up drenched in sweat, heart pounding, and you knew—something was wrong. You didn't tell anyone, so you grabbed your keys and drove.

The Spencer house sat tucked in a sleepy New Orleans neighborhood, all peeling paint and dying hydrangeas, a hollow place. The front door was open, so you let yourself in. The house was quiet, not peaceful, but dead. There were dishes in the sink, a chair knocked over, and a picture frame shattered. The air also reeked of copped and rot and something else—something grief-stricken.

You heard it. A sob that is raw, broken, and animalistic. It led you down the hall, past family photos that made your skin crawl. Smiling faces, Kyle’s too, but younger and innocent, not yet touched by death or magic or cruelty. The sobbing got louder as you walked towards the sound, you then pushed the door, and there Kyle was—curled into himself on the bloodstained carpet, his finger torn and red. The wall behind him splattered with it, and his face wasn't just blood on him, it was grief.

You saw her mother slumped on the floor, lifeless. You didn't look at her long, you only saw Kyle. He didn't see you at first, he was trembling, rocking, chest heaving with ragged sobs. Every breath sounded like it hurt. When you moved towards him, his head snapped up, eyes wild and desperate.

Kyle didn't speak, he couldn't. But the look on his face broke your heart. You dropped to your knees beside him, not caring about the blood, not caring about anything except the boy that is in front of you.

“I’m here,” you said softly, reaching for him. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

He let out a strangled noise, somewhere between a sob and a scream, and then he collapsed against you. His arms wrapped around your waist, body shaking with silent horror. You held him tighter as the blood soaked into your shirt, you didn't flinch.

“It’s not your fault,” you whispered, over and over. “I know. I know.”

Because you did. You knew what she did to him, what his mother was. You could feel it in the walls of this place, the ghosts and shadows. You held him until he stopped shaking.

You quickly got to work. It was frantic, messy, and desperate. You didn't think, you just moved like a robot. Bleach, towels, garbage bags—you knew how to make things disappear. You have seen enough in this life to know what the world doesn't want to look at. By the time the sun began to set, you were done.

You stood in front of him, blood still under your nails, and offered your hand. “Come with me,” you said. “You don’t have to stay here, I’ll take care of you.”

Kyle’s eyes were wet, lost. But he took your hand.

Once you were both back, you brought him to your room, where it was quiet and safe. You set up a cot beside your bed, but when you turned around, Kyle was already curled on your comforter, clinging to your pillow like it was a lifeline.

You smiled softly. “Okay, you can stay there.”

You dimmed the lights and slipped in beside him, unsure of when the last time he’d had real sleep. In the quiet of the night, you felt his finger reach out for yours. He didn't speak, he didn't have to.

“I’ll protect you,” you whispered into the dark. “I know what it’s like to have a body that remembers pain, but we’ll unlearn it. Together.”

Kyle pressed his forehead to your shoulder, and for the first time, his breathing was steady. You didn't tell anyone that he’s back, at least not yet. Not until he was ready. You would teach him again—how to speak, write, and most importantly, how to live. Then, maybe in time, how to trust.

You were the quiet one, the one who knew everything, and now, you knew what love looked like in its rawest form—it is the broken boy that is in your bed right now.

You promise that you would never let him break again.

© rosecoloredsunshine, 2025

[marchsfreakshow]

Never Leave Me Again [Dandy Mott]

Fluff

Dandy hated it when you left the house, even more so with his car so he couldn't even catch up to you. If it was up to him he'd keep you in his playroom forever.

2025 re-write of my first ever fanfic. The original can be read here! I love this fanfic so much, it means a lot to me that this started this whole thing. So, I had to <33

Please reblog if possible!! It would mean a lot to me and I would appreciate every single interaction 💜

No one's perspective

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

"You know I was perfectly happy walkin' back home.."

You shrugged as a response to Dora's words. The car hummed lowly as it drove the both of you home, an empty road infront of you with bare traffic, a quiet radio playing a new song. "You don't need to continue being walked all over by Dandy and Gloria. You deserve some good things in your life, and we can start by me driving you home whenever you get the groceries."

She let out an awkward chuckle as she glanced over at you, your sweet smile. Too sweet for Dandy to love. How on earth did he love you so? Were you just an exception to his utter chaotic mind or did he just like how you looked and thought it would make his mother happy? No matter what, you kept him surprisingly calm. It was odd.

"You're so strange, I honestly do not understand for the life of me how Dandy has taken to you the way he has."

The groceries shook in their paper bags in the trunk, tin cans clunking against the vegetables in the slightly tensed silence. It was a question that was forever unanswered, one Dandy never answered properly. He told everyone that you loved eachother, you were the only one he'd ever consider marrying or even just a partnership in some way. "Once we get back I'll help you unload everything okay?"

Dora made a noise and looked out the window, a slight uncomfortable wriggle in her movements. The leather car seats were something she wasn't used to, not really. But she appreciated your kindness and your concern for her life.

When the Mott Mansion appeared in sight, you parked quickly, used to where Dandy's car should be and would be. Turning the car off, everything fell to another silence, no low hum of the engine or the music proudly playing on the radio. "Well, thank you for driving me to and from... I appreciate it." Dora mentioned, both of you getting out of the car to haul the brown bags inside the house.

"Don't mention it Dora, someone has to. If Gloria and Dandy won't, I will." You replied simply, keys awkwardly opening the door with one of the bags in your arm. She sighed your name in pity she didn't need, walking with you into the kitchen. Bags placed on the counter, and you looked over at the table. "Oh, um, would you do me a favour and wipe the dining table please? It looks like it's starting to gather dust."

Before she could even say yes, Dandy's arms came and wrapped around your torso, pulling you back into him. He exclaimed your name with glee, holding you tight as you squealed in suprise. "Dandy! You scared me!" You chuckled, eventually bring let go so you could turn and face him. Dora just sighed and disappeared into the back of the kitchen, leaving you two alone for a few moments.

"I missed you, I missed you so much." He uttered, burying his head in your neck. His hands wandered you to keep you close. But he couldn't have that in the kitchen, no. Dandy eventually took your hands, bringing you upstairs into his playroom. Practically the safe haven for you both.

"i was only gone an hour my darling." You whispered back, keeping firm hands on his shoulders, right where they belonged. He huffed childishly, not accepting that you were only gone an hour. That was practically a lifetime to Dandy. Kisses were placed on your face, all over your cheeks, neck, everywhere possible.

"that's practically a lifetime." The childish man whimpered, laying you down on the small couch like seating in his playroom. "You are, much better, than any other person mother has brought home for me." He smiled, pressing kisses between words, to every single part of you he could find, just wanting to silently appreciate you.

"mm.. you flatter me Dandy."

"It's true! You, my lovely, are perfect. Absolutely perfect."

A simple chuckle left your lips, tilting your head back to let Dandy continue painting your skin with kisses and adoration. You were his everything, his world and he would burn his life down for you if you asked. "I love you Dandy."

"I love you more!"

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Tag: @strawb3rrystar / @fear-is-truth

Wanna be part of my Dandy Mott taglist? Check out my taglist form in my pinned!

[inmysilverlocket]

Jimmy Darling — Alcoholism

warnings/tags: angst, no use of y/n, alcoholism (obviouslyyy), cussing, jimmy and reader are best friends but its up to you if you want to interpret them as platonic or not <3. i hope this isn't too ooc for drunk jimmy...

wc: approx. 1.1k words (oneshot)

finally posted a longer fanfic guys!! feeling pretty awesome 😎😎

Being considered a freak among society since he was a baby, he’d grown used to the harsh society of those who stared at him like an exotic sort of animal at a zoo. That harshness was what made him appear resilient to you, so headstrong; it was something you admired him for because of how much he tried to make you feel normal, despite being unacceptable to the rest of the world. But what you had now seen grow in Jimmy was absolutely just devastating. Word of Ethel’s death spread quickly among the performers of the show and the weight of that hung low over everyone’s heads — but you knew certainly Jimmy’s heart hurt the most.

You never thought he would resort to doing something he had vowed he wouldn’t ever do. He had never stooped so low in his life. It could’ve been that he just didn’t care anymore now that his mother’s dead.

So Jimmy would start drinking, and drinking, and drinking until he couldn’t sit upright anymore. He’d hoard bottles of whatever kind of alcohol he could find. Didn’t matter if it was whiskey or beer or wine — as long as he could drink away the grief, it didn’t matter. Sometimes you found him holding the bottles close to his chest like they’d light his heavy broken heart. Jimmy would drink his life away if he could. Maybe that’s what he wanted to do now that he lost someone so dear to him.

Everyone could see the way he was becoming a selfish and agitated alcoholic. Jimmy whined about every little thing. He acted foolish and would stumble across the grounds while murmuring something not quite understandable under his breath. Jimmy’s behavior slowly got worse — and then far too much for you to keep picking up all the pieces for him. He wouldn’t stop being rash, wouldn’t stop making rude remarks, refused help from anybody including you because he wouldn’t allow himself to be taken care of. It was almost like he was completely incapable of being helped.

Jimmy made a scene again during dinner, which had frightened some of the other freaks as the tension lingered in the air. You had to take him away before he caused any more problems. The sky was a dusky blue, only the moon and stars lighting up the show grounds. Jimmy’s arm was slung across your shoulder as you both walked (or you more so dragged him) to his caravan.

"I don't wanna go back... to th' vaaan..."

"You have to, Jimmy." You quietly mumbled back. "You're acting stupid again."

"I'm not acting like an idiot... everyone else is treatin' me like one." Jimmy's slurred voice rose a little, a defensive tone tinging his voice.

You couldn't help but let out a displeased huff, "We wouldn't treat you like one if you weren't acting like one."

Jimmy's brows furrowed in an offended look, but you ignored the expression to drag him up to the door of the small trailer. You pulled the door open with your free hand and guided him up into the barely lit interior of the caravan — he tripped over the steps a bit but didn't fall over.

"Shit.." He mumbled drunkenly; you followed after him as he got his hands on another bottle of alcohol.

"Jimmy, put that away." You tried to grab the bottle from him, but he held onto tightly and turned away from you.

"Hey!" He retorted childishly while you tried grabbing it from him again. "You caan't tell me what to do!"

"Give it to me, come on."

The two of you struggled as Jimmy fought to keep holding onto the drink, staggering through the tiny space and bumping into things.

"Jimmy, I swear—!" You tugged on the liquor and he stumbled over his feet.

"G'damn it!" Jimmy grunted, the alcohol splashing as you managed to take it from him. "Give it back!"

"No, Jimmy." You sternly turned from him and backed up. "You've had enough for today, you're going to bed."

"M'fine! I don't neeed any sleep!" Jimmy exclaimed. "Why're you being such a bitch right now?"

"Me? I'm the bitch?" Your voice raised at his audacity — like he hadn’t been the one mistreating you the past few weeks. "You can't be serious!"

You slammed the bottle of alcohol on the counter beside you, Jimmy surprised at your upset reaction. You'd been putting up with his behavior for so long he seemed to forget you still had limits and now this was the breaking point.

"You cannot be serious! Every single damn day, Jimmy! You drink and drink and drink until you can barely even walk! I have to apologize to everyone you make angry, it's me, I have to be the one cleaning up all of your damn messes!" You paused, trying to find the words to express your anger. "I take all of the responsibility for you! And that hurts, you know! That's hurts when you call me a bitch for trying to take care of you— you’re supposed to be my best friend, Jimmy!"

For a moment you saw his eyes sober up almost; still hazy of course but almost conscious enough to feel at least a little guilty. But only for that single moment because his brows furrowed and his dark eyes went back to drunk frustration.

"Then stop trying to take care of me! I don’t need your help!"

"Oh, fine then! Fine! I’m done trying!"

“Just go! Get out!” Jimmy staggered, his yelling drawled as pointed to the door. “Go!”

You we're already backing up to the door and reaching for the handle, “I’m going!”

"And don't come back!"

That was the last thing you heard before you left the caravan back into the cold, silent night. You couldn't believe his audacity; the way he'd been treating you wasn't going to slip by anymore even if he was your friend. Jimmy had finally fucked up his relationship with you like he'd done with everybody else. It upset you really, your throat burned with holding back the anger and sadness you truly felt.

You almost wanted to head back inside, though you didn't know exactly why (maybe to apologize but neither of you were ready to apologize to each other at all). You instead took a quick moment for yourself — then headed back to dinner with the rest of the freaks like nothing had happened.

i kinda dont like it but ykw its a start and im glad i finally finished it! i rushed thru this a little (because i was legit so burnt out in writing) and so its a bit corny just not that good 😅 hoping u guys enjoyed it cuz the writers block i was going thru was insane

also i was gonna put freak!reader in the warnings/tags but tbh i dont think it really mattered in this specific fic so i took it out

thanks for reading!! 🫶🏽

heart divider by @enchanthings <33

[kaiscumsock]

number one slut for kit walker