evil Otis imagine, cw noncon
Otis keeping you tied to his bed, keeping a tally of how many times hes raped you on the bedframe. Just carves it right into the wood with the knife still stained with your blood
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evil Otis imagine, cw noncon
Otis keeping you tied to his bed, keeping a tally of how many times hes raped you on the bedframe. Just carves it right into the wood with the knife still stained with your blood
Clever Rabbit, Ain't You. // part two
pairing: Otis Driftwood x Reader
summary: Otis brings you back to his room expecting you to finally crack. Instead, you keep pushing back, throwing his threats and teasing right back at him. What starts as another game of him trying to get a reaction out of you turns into a full-on battle of wills, and the more you fight him, the more interested he becomes.
warnings: Captivity, kidnapping, violence, threats, fear, psychological manipulation, intimidation, obsessive behavior, non-consensual restraint, predator/prey dynamics, implied death, toxic relationship dynamics, dark romance, murder references, coercive behavior, physical intimidation, suggestive ending
word count: 2.7k
author note: gonna do a third chapter dedicated to the smut LMAO
ALSO APOLOGIES FOR THE TYPOS I NOTICED THEM AFTER UPLOADING AND DID NOT HAVE A CHANCE TO GO THROUGH AND PROPERLY EDIT >:(
The door closes behind him, and for a few seconds you can still hear his footsteps moving down the hallway. You remain where he left you, staring at the door as though you might somehow see through it. Your breathing is still uneven from everything that happened in the woods, but now that you're standing in the quiet of his room, the adrenaline has nowhere to go. It settles beneath your skin instead, leaving you restless and painfully aware of everything; the faint metallic smell, the dim light, the sound of your own heartbeat.
You tell yourself that you're relieved he's gone, and that maybe you should be looking for a way out. But your mind keeps circling back to his words; I'll get a yes outta you eventually, mama. You hate how condiently he'd said it, and even more that small traitorous part of you that had wondered what would happen if he was right.
The door opens again before you have time to collect yourself. Otis leans against the frame, watching you with an expression that tells you he's been paying attention.
"Thinkin' about me?" he asks.
You scoff and turn away.
He pushes himself off the frame and steps into the room, closing the door behind him.
"Liar."
The word is almost playful, and you glance up at him despite yourself. He's changed nothing about his expression since the woods; that same crooked grin is there, but the creepy makeup is gone, only black residue left at the corners of his mouth.
He's testing you, waiting for your reaction.
"Y'know." he says, moving around the room, "most people'd be beggin' by now."
You fold your arms tight.
"Maybe I'm not most people."
He stops. For a moment, his grin disappears, replaced by something thoughtful.
"That, you're definitely not."
You don't knoiw whether you like hearing him say it or not. Either way you refuse to let it show.
"So what?" you ask. "You just gonna keep trying to scare me."
Otis gives a little shrug.
"Maybe." He walks closer, stopping a few feet away. "But I don't think that bothers you."
You frown.
"You don't know anything about me."
"I know you could've kept runnin, but you stopped. I know you smiled when you were supposed to be afraid of me." He tilts his head, studying your face. "And I know you been thinkin' about it ever since."
You look away immediaely.
"You're crazy."
"That I am, mama." his voice is quiet, amusement laced through every word. "But tell me I'm wrong."
You force yourself to look at him. His red eyes hold yours, and for a moment you're certain you've done it. You're not going to flinch or look away. You're not going to give him anything.
Then, his expression softens into that familiar, infuriating smile, and you realise he's waiting.
"Go on, tell me."
Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. His smile grows.
"Thats what I thought."
You hate the satisfaction in his voice.
"I don't have shit to say to you."
Otis' grin widens immediately, like thats exactly what he was hoping for adn you curse yourself for giving him even an ounce of satisfaction.
He gives a quiet laugh and shakes his head, looking pleased.
"There y'are thats better, mama." He takes another step toward you.
You glare at him, refusing to back down. "What's better about it?"
He shrugs, his eyes flickering over your face, leaning forward so you can feel his hot breath.
"That attitude. Don't lose it on me now."
You scoff. "You want me to have an attitude?"
"Hell yeah." His smile turns crooked. "Either that or you can stand there cryin'" He takes another step, stopping just outside your reach. "Go ahead and tell me what you're really thinkin'."
"I think you're a fucking psychopath." You spit.
He merely laughs." Good."
"I think you're disgusting."
"Mhmm."
"I think you're fucking insane."
He nods approvingly. "Now we are gettin' somewhere."
You stare at him, thrown by how little your insults seem to bother him. If anything he seems more entertained by each word. "You seriously enjoy this?"
"Enjoy what?"
"Me telling you how much I hate you?"
His grin softens into something almost affectionate. "I enjoy how much you mean it."
You frown.
"Theres a difference, mama."
He circles you slowly, giving plenty of room to follow him with your eyes.
"Some people try to eep me happy, tell me I'm misunderstood, offer me money, beg, cry." He smirks, letting the silence stretch for a moment before continuing. "But you…" He lets a soft sigh escape his lips, shaking his head as though hes trying to find the right words. "You, you."
He comes to a stop behind you, and you turn your head slightly to keep him in your peripheral vision.
"What about me?"
"You're clever."
You blink.
He grins.
"Mean, too."
You turn to face him fully. "And?"
"And I like it, mama."
The admission is so casual that it catches you off guard.
Otis steps closer, tilting his head as he studies you. "You got this real nasty little look when you're mad." He bites his lower lip for a moment, adjusting his jaw. "Makes me wanna see how mad I can get you."
"You're doing a good job of that."
Otis goes still. Crooked grin disappearing from his face and his eyebrows lift slightly. He looks at you, almost surprised.
You immediately regret saying it, but theres something strangely satisfying about having him caught off guard.
"Yeah?"
You shrug, trying to make yourself look indifferent. "Yeah, you're doing amazing." you say sarcastically
A slow smile spreads across his face. He looks down for a second before meeting your eyes again. Now, a different kind of satisfaction is in his expression and you realise you had fed him a compliment.
"Didn't expect that," he murmurs to himself.
"Don't get excited."
"Too late for that, mama."
You roll your eyes.
That little laugh escapes him again, shaking his head as he looks down at you.
"Oh, you're good." He points at you. "Real good mama, thinkin' you can get to me like that."
Your eyebrows pull together. "I'm not trying to get to you."
"Uh-huh."
"I'm not."
"Sure."
He takes another slow step closer, studying you with an expression that makes you squirm.
"You think I don't know what you're doin'?"
"I'm literally telling you what I'm doing."
That's the problem." He chuckles. "You're tellin' me one thing while you're standin' there lookin' at me like that."
You frown. "Like what?"
He pauses, eyes moving over your face.
"Like you're tryin' somethin'."
"I'm not."
"Maybe you are."
"Maybe you're just imagining things."
That makes him laugh.
"Could be."
He watches you for another moment, and something almost thoughtful crosses his face before the familiar grin returns. "That's real funny, though."
"What is?"
"You spent all that time tellin' me how much you hate me, then you turn around and start complimentin' me."
"It wasn't a compliment."
"You said I was doin' good."
"At pissing me off."
"Still."
You sigh, folding your arms again. But Otis takes your irritation as an invitation to get closer.
He watches you for another second, eyes lingering on the stubborn set of your mouth before trailing down your body, hovering on your crossed arms. Then, he steps forward until theres barely any space between you. You instinctively straighten up, refusing to retreat, and teh satisfaction that flashes across his face makes you immediately regret it.
"Still gonna tell me it wasn't a compliment?" he murmurs.
"Yes."
He gives a quiet laugh. "You're stubborn."
"So you've said."
"And you're gettin' red."
Your face heats further. "I'm not."
"You are."
He lifts a hand, and you tense when his fingers catch lightly beneath your chin, turning your face toward the dim light. He doesn't hold you tightly; he doesn't need to. The gesture is enough to make you acutely aware of how close he is. His thumb rests along your jaw as he studies you, that crooked smile slowly returning.
"Look at you," he says softly. "All worked up."
"I'm annoyed."
"Oh, sure you are sweet thing."
You try to pull your chin away, but he follows the movement, keeping your face angled toward him. His eyes flicker over your expression with an almost fascinated amusement, like every little attempt you make to hide your reaction only gives him something else to notice.
Your hand comes up before you can think better of it, striking across his face.
The sound cracks through the room. Otis' head turn with the impact.
For a second, everything goes completely still. You stare at him, your chest rising and falling, waiting for the anger. Waiting for that hardened expression you saw in the woods.
Instead he grunts, slowly turning his head back toward you and smiles softly. Not the mocking smile he had been wearing before. Geniunely pleased.
"Hell."
You blink
He touches his cheek affectionately, then looks at you again.
"That was good."
Your brows knit together in disbelief. "What?"
He laughs under his breath, shaking his head. "I said that was good, mama."
You stare at him.
He looks almost impressed.
"Didn't even hesitate."
"Don't touch me."
"Then don't let me."
The answer comes so quickly that it catches you off guard.
He steps closer again, but this time there's no wandering around you, no pretending he's trying to figure you out. His attention is completely fixed on you.
"You wanna hit me?" he asks.
You hesitate.
"Yes."
His grin flashes.
"Good."
You don't know why that makes something inside you twist.
"You wanna call me disgusting?"
"You are disgusting."
He shudders in delight.
"You wanna call me crazy?"
"You're fucking insane."
"Again."
"You're a sick bastard."
His eyes brighten.
"That's my girl."
You hate how much you like the sound of that.
You hate even more that he seems to notice.
"Keep goin'."
"You're a fucking asshole."
"Good."
"A pathetic little freak."
He actually laughs at that, head tipping back for a moment.
"Jesus Christ."
You can't help it. A tiny laugh escapes you too. The moment it happens, you realize what you've done.You clamp your mouth shut.
Otis watches you for a long moment, his grin slowly returning as though hes just discovered something far more interesting than he'd expected to find in you.
"Fuck, mama. We got a wily one." he murmurs.
You frown. "What?"
He shakes his head, almost laughing to himself. "Nothing."
But he doesn't look away.
You fold your arms again, trying to recover some of the confidence you'd had a moment ago. "You're staring."
"I know."
"You gonna keep doing that?"
His hand settles lightly against your jaw again, turning your face toward him. He studies you for a moment, eyes moving across your expression as though he's trying to decide whether you're going to fight him again.
"You're still scared."
You swallow.
"Yeah."
"But you're still here."
"Do I have a choice?"
Otis smiles. His thumb moves once along your cheek before he lets his hand fall. Then he leans closer, close enough that his voice drops to almost a whisper.
"You know what happens now?"
You stare at him.
He smiles.
"Now I get to find out just how wily you really are."
He takes your hand, turning it over slowly in his, his eyes never leaving your face.
You look down at your hand in his, then back up at him. There's something almost absurd about how calm he seems now, like he's already decided what you're going to do next. That confidence irritates you enough to make you want to prove him wrong.
You study him, trying to work out whether he's genuinely giving you an opening or simply waiting to see what you'll do with it. Either way, you find yourself wanting to surprise him again.
So you do.
You step closer. For the first time, his expression flickers.It's barely there, but you catch it.And suddenly you understand why he enjoys this so much.
You like seeing him react.
The realization should make you step back.Instead, you hold his gaze.
"There," you murmur.
His eyes narrow slightly. "There what?"
"You look at all the girls you kidnap like this?"
His eyes stay on yours, and the smile that had been threatening at the corners of his mouth disappears completely. His fingers remain loosely curled around your hand, but his attention sharpens.
Then, slowly, he smiles again.
"That's what you're thinkin' about?"
You shrug, trying to make it seem casual. "You didn't answer."
He lets out a quiet laugh.
"You're somethin' else, mama."
"Is that a yes?"
He takes a small step closer, studying you with renewed interest. "You jealous?"
Your eyebrows shoot up.
"What?"
He grins."That's a funny little question to ask me."
"I'm not jealous."
"Didn't say you were." His thumb moves once across your knuckles before he releases your hand."You really wanna know?"
You nod, your heart rate rising as his eyes look deep into yours.
"Most of 'em ain't alive by this point."
The room seems to close in around you.
Until now, you'd been so focused on Otis that you'd managed to ignore everything else- the stale, metallic smell lingering beneath the heavier scent of dust and old fabric, the dim light spilling across the room, the stains you had deliberately refused to look at for too long. Now that he's gone quiet, you notice all of it at once.
Your eyes drift past his shoulder.
There are things scattered around the room that you don't want to identify. Things that look as though they belong to someone else. Clothes shoved into a corner. A dark stain disappearing beneath the edge of a piece of furniture. Something lying beneath a sheet near the far wall, its shape unmistakably human even with the face hidden from view.
Your stomach turns.
"You see it now," he says quietly.
He follows your gaze toward the covered shape, then looks back at you with that same crooked smile.
"Was wonderin' how long it'd take."
You swallow hard.
"Is that..."
Your voice dies before you finish the question.
Otis's eyebrows lift.
"That what?"
You take an unconscious step backward.
Otis notices, but for once, he doesn't laugh.
He simply watches you, his expression almost fascinated as the bravado you've been clinging to starts to crack beneath the reality of where you are.
"You were real brave a minute ago."
You glare at him.
"Don't lose your nerve now, mama." Otis finally lets himself lean closer, crowding the space between you as he takes a slow breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "Not when I'm this close.
Your shoulders tense. "What do you mean by that?"
"You know exactly what I mean." Theres anger behind it now, his eyes firey red
You swallow, forcing yourself to stand your ground even as every instinct tells you to put distance between you.
"You want me to be scared?"
His eyes narrow.
"I want you to be honest."
You stare at him.
He tilts his head, studying you as though he's waiting for the smallest crack in your expression.
"You could've kept your mouth shut," he says. "Could've stood there and cried like everybody else. But you didn't."
His voice lowers.
"You hit me."
You say nothing.
"You insulted me."
He scoffs
"Too clever for your own good."
You scoff in return. "You keep saying that like it's a bad thing."
His smile widens.
"Never said it was."
Otis' smile never quite reaches his eyes. "Thats the trouble with clever girls." he murmurs, close enough now that every breath brushes your skin. "They start thinkin' they can control the game."
You want to snap back, keep that last shred of defiance between you like a blade, but the room as changed around you. The covered shape in the corner, the smell of iron, the heat of him standing too near all presses in at once. Still, you lift your chin, refusing tears.
You hold his stare.
"Maybe I can."
Something sharp flashes across his face. His hand lifts, this time stopping before it touches you. His fingers hovering over your shoulder, close enough for you to feel the heat of them without actually making contact.
"You think so?"
His fingers finally touch you- not your throat, not your mouth, but the side of your shoulder. The contact is light, almost cautious, which makes it worse. His thumb drags once over the fabric of your shirt, and your breath catches despite yourself.
You hate that he notices.
“There,” he murmurs. “That little look.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Ain’t flattering myself.”
His hand closes around your shoulder, not hard enough to hurt, but firmly enough to remind you how easily he could. The knowledge makes your stomach tighten. So does the warmth of his palm.
You find yourself leaning into his touch, looking up at his pale features with a softness that surprised you both.
He walks back towards his bed, beckoning you to join him by patting his lap.
You oblige, closing the distance slowly, never breaking eye contact.
Otis watches you approach with an expression that is impossible to read. Anticipation sits beneath his skin as you stop infront of him. His hand remains extended, palm open against his knee.
"Still sure?" he asks coyl.y
You glance toward the door which remainds shut. But you could run, put some space between you and him again.
Instead, you place your hand in his.
"Yes."
His fingers close around your as he guides you into his lap.
The mattress shifts beneath his weight as you settle against him, your knees either side of his thighs. His hands come to rest at your waist firmly.
His restraint unsettles you more than his confidence ever did.
"You're quiet, somethin' the matter, mama?"
"You talk enough for both of us."
A low laugh vibrates from him, sending a shiver through your body. "Just when I though you were gonna be sweet.
You adjust your position, deliberately settling closer and you catch his chin between your fingers, looking down at his chapped lips.
"Don't look so pleased with yourself."
"Hard not to."
"You're still fucking disgusting."
"Mmhmm."
"And a sick bastard."
"Oh yeah."
"And I'll never fuck you."
That wipes the grin from his face. His hand slides up your back, stopping between your shoulder blades. You shiver, and his mouth hangs open slightly.
"Don't be so sure."
The words are soft, but the confidence behind them makes your stomach tighten.
You keep hold of his chin, refusing to let him turn away. “That sounded like a threat.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
You almost laugh at the lie. He is made of them- smoke, blood, crooked smiles, and promises that sound more dangerous than threats.
Still, you don’t move away.
His hand settles at your waist again, waiting. When you lean into him, his fingers tighten just enough to make your breath catch. That familiar satisfaction flickers across his face, but you silence it by pulling him down into another kiss.
This one is slower.
Less like a fight. More like a decision.
His mouth moves against yours with surprising patience, your hands slide over his shoulders, catching in the fabric of his shirt as he guides you backward.
Now he's lying under you, his teethy smile showing how much he was enjoying the view.
“Still with me?”
You look past him, toward the open door, then back at his face.
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
Irritation flashes through you, but beneath it is something steadier: the knowledge that this time, the words belong entirely to you.
“I’m still with you.”
He studies you for another moment, then nods.
“All right, mama.”
You pull him closer by the collar.
“And stop calling me that.”
His grin brushes your mouth. “No.”
“Then I’ll have to find another way to shut you up.”
“That so?”
“You talk too much.”
“You like it.”
“I hate it.”
You kiss him before he can say anything else.
The argument dissolves into heat. His hands move over you with deliberate care, pausing whenever your body tenses and continuing only when you draw him closer. The touch is unsettling—his skin warm, his scent clinging to him, the faint residue of makeup still dark at the corner of his mouth.
He is everything you should despise.
Somehow, that makes every moment of wanting him feel more dangerous.
Your fingers find the edge of his shirt.
"Take it off.”
The command sends a shiver through you, but you remain the one making the choice. Your hands tighten in the fabric, and his smile fades into something intent and watchful as you pull him closer.you press your mouth to his again and let the room fall away around you—the dim light, the metallic smell, the terrible shape beneath the sheet—until there is only the heat between you and the dangerous satisfaction of knowing that, for once, you were the one who decided how close he could get.
Otis’s voice drops against your skin.
“That’s my clever girl.”
You close your eyes.
"Don’t ruin it.”
His laugh is quiet and rough.
Then he pulls you down with him, and the rest of the night disappears behind the closed door.
feeling crazy writing for Otis like... I KNOW HES HORRIBLE IM SORRY
Clever Rabbit, Ain't You. // part one
pairing: Otis Driftwood x Reader
summary: Otis has a game for you: run through the woods, scream as loud as you can, and try not to get caught. But when you prove far better at the game than he expected, the hunt becomes something neither of you quite anticipated.
warnings: Captivity, kidnapping, violence, threats, fear, psychological manipulation, dark themes, obsessive behavior, non-consensual restraint, predator/prey dynamics
word count: 2.7k
author note: guys i just love bill moseley ... part two will prob be nsfw fair warning.
Otis's fingers dig into the flesh just above your elbow as he drags you the last few steps toward the clearing. You stumble, catching yourself before you go down.
Otis laughs. "Aw, don't fall yet, rabbit." His grip tightens. "Wouldn't want you to miss your chance to escape."
You swallow. You had been trying not to look at him, which had been a mistake.
He steps around in front of you and catches your chin, your breath catching in your throat. "Look at me."
You comply. Can't help it. He's too close. Pale hair, smudged makeup, and that crooked, horrible grin. His eyes move slowly over your face, taking you in. You try to pull away, and his fingers tighten around your jaw.
"Nuh-uh, mama." His smile widens. "You don't get to do that."
He tilts your face toward the moonlight. "Let me get a good look at you."
Your pulse beats hard beneath his fingertips. His thumb shifts against the underside of your jaw. He feels it.
"Scared?"
You nod, looking into his red eyes.
"Yeah?" His brows furrow tauntingly, and he chuckles when you nod again. "Good."
He releases you abruptly, and you take a step backward. He watches intently, ushering you to keep backing up with his hands. You take another step backward, then another. His grin returns.
"Keep goin', rabbit."
You stop. His head tilts.
"What?"
You say nothing.
"You don't wanna?" he says, taking a step closer.
You glance toward the trees. Otis follows your gaze and laughs.
"Oh." He turns his head toward the woods. "You don't like those?"
You shake your head, eyes pleading. His smile only grows.
"You should." He points into the darkness. "'Cause that's where you're headed, mama."
Your stomach drops. Otis steps behind you, but you feel him before you see him. His body is close against your back, one hand settling on your shoulder. You flinch.
He laughs softly beside your ear. "Y'know what I like about this?"
You don't answer, too focused on how his fingers trail up and down your arms.
"I like it when they realize." His hand slides from your shoulder down to your wrist, fingers closing around it. "That there's nowhere to go."
He gives your wrists a little tug, keeping you flush against him.
"Nowhere to hide." He turns one of your hands over, examining it almost idly. "Nobody's comin'."
Your breathing quickens. Otis looks to your hand, then to your face, pulling your arm uncomfortably to make you face him.
"Look at me when I'm talkin' to you."
You look up instantly. His frown is replaced by a soft, manic smile.
"Good, rabbit." He sighs, letting go of your wrist. "You run."
You blink twice, processing his words.
"What?"
He smiles upon hearing your voice. "You heard me."
He leans forward, his breath hot on your cheek.
"Run."
Your legs can't seem to move, and his smile slowly fades as he watches you, frozen in place.
"I said run."
His expression hardens.
"Run, rabbit!" he shouts, taking a step forward.
You instinctively step back, unable to tear your gaze away from his eyes. He follows.
"Y'want me to chase you?" His voice is lower now. "Is that what this is?"
"I-uh..." You stutter out an answer. Unable to, you just shake your head.
"No?" He laughs, but there's no warmth to it. "Then what the hell are you waitin' for?"
Your eyes burn. You hate that he can see that you're about to cry, but he sees it anyway.
His expression changes immediately.
"There you go." He points at your face. "That's what I wanna see."
He reaches out, his thumb catching the tear before it can fall. You recoil, but his hand catches your cheek.
"Don't." The word is quiet, his thumb still pressed against your skin. "Don't waste it."
You stare at him, confusion painted on your face, and he smiles.
"You're gonna need those tears for later, mama." He winks.
Then he nods toward the trees.
"Now, go."
You don't move.
"Go on." His jaw tightens. "Make me want to chase you."
You take one trembling step backward as he watches, his grin returning as one foot falls after the other.
"That's it." Another. "Keep goin'."
That's when you turn and run, hearing Otis shout, "That's my girl!" As the blood pumps in your ears. His laughter follows you into the trees as you run blindly. Branches strike your face, your feet sticking to the leaves. Your lungs burn immediately.
Behind you, beyond the trees, Otis is still standing where he stood before. Then he shouts, "Run!"
You keep going, running deep into the forest, trying to break the line of sight.
"Come on!" His voice is closer now. "Where you goin', rabbit?"
You keep running, hands out to push off trees as you bump into them.
"Help!" The word tears out of you before you can stop it.
His laughter follows, loud.
"There you go!"
You scream again, glancing behind you, unable to catch a glimpse of him.
"Fuck..." you mutter. "Help!"
"Nobody's coming, sweet thing!" His voice is closer now. "Keep screamin'."
You push through more branches, risking another glance over your shoulder. But you see nothing. Only darkness. You turn forward again and keep running.
Otis stops, listening out for your shouts, your footsteps, twigs breaking—any indication as to where you've gone. His grin disappears.
"Rabbit?" he says, pushing through the trees. "Where'd you go?"
Silence follows.
He walks farther, following the trail of footprints in the dirt. Suddenly, they stop.
Otis stares at the ground, his jaw clenching. He looks up.
"C'mon, mama." He huffs. "Thought we was havin' fun."
He kicks through the leaves.
"Where'd you go?"
Silence.
The irritation is unmistakable now. He hates being ignored, hates not knowing. And he especially hates the sudden realization that you're not running anymore.
You don't know how long you've been hiding. Long enough for your breathing to slow, and for the terror in your chest to change into something stranger.
You are crouched behind a fallen log, one hand pressed against your mouth. And you're watching him. Otis, moving through the woods in front of you. Not wandering, but hunting.
He moves differently now, the easy swagger gone. His head keeps twitching toward every little sound, his shoulders tight and tense. Every few steps, he stops completely to listen.
You watch him turn slowly in your direction, your heart leaping into your throat. For one breathless second, you're certain that he's found you.
You press yourself harder against the fallen log, your fingers tightening over your mouth.
Otis stares into the darkness, right at you.
You don't breathe.
His eyes narrow, and he takes a step closer.
Your heart pounds against your ribs.
Then another step.
You can barely contain the strange, breathless excitement building in your chest. He doesn't see you. You know he doesn't, yet he's looking right at you. And somehow that makes it worse—better. You can't decide which.
Otis's head twitches toward a sound somewhere deeper in the woods, and he turns away. A smile threatens the corners of your mouth, but you bite it back.
What the hell is wrong with you?
He should have found you. You should be terrified that he hasn't. Instead, you're watching him. Waiting. Maybe even hoping he'll turn around again.
Otis walks several yards before stopping. He looks around.
"Come on."
His voice carries through the trees.
"Where the fuck are you?"
His shoulders rise with a slow breath, then drop. He kicks at the dirt.
"Thought you was gonna scream."
Your pulse skips as he starts walking again.
"You were doin' so good for me before." He laughs once, a sharp and humourless sound. "Help! Help!" He mimics your voice badly, throwing his head back.
You have to press your fist against your mouth as a tiny laugh threatens to escape.
You watch him pace. He isn't hunting casually anymore. He's searching, his movements quick and twitchy as he pushes branches aside and kicks through the overgrowth of the forest.
The more frustrated he gets, the harder it is not to smile.
You like watching him look for you. Being the reason his patience is wearing thin. You like knowing that he can't figure out where you went. How he longs for you to scream.
Otis suddenly stops. His head turns, straight toward you again.
Your entire body goes rigid. You stare back through the darkness.
His eyes move slowly across the trees, and your heart pounds so loud you're convinced he might hear it.
He starts to walk toward you, and you feel a giddy little rush spread through your chest.
He's getting closer. He's going to find you- you almost want him to. Almost.
Otis stops. He's only a few yards away now. He squints, and you can see his expression changing, a smile curling on his lips.
"You're here."
Your stomach flips.
He doesn't know where, but he knows.
You clamp your hand tighter over your mouth.
Then he laughs quietly. "You're watchin' me, ain't ya?"
His eyes travel across the trees.
"I know you are." He shakes his head, almost amused.
He takes another slow step.
You press yourself farther into the darkness.
Otis lets out another breath through his nose. And somehow, he almost sounds impressed.
"Hell." He looks down at the ground, shaking his head. "You're different, mama."
The words make your stomach flutter.
He looks back up. "Most folks would've run themselves stupid by now."
He gestures toward the woods.
"Screamin', cryin', beggin'."
His gaze sweeps the trees again.
"But not you." He pauses. "You're watchin'."
You swallow.
He seems to enjoy the thought, his shoulders loosening.
"You're clever, mama."
Your pulse jumps at the praise.
He starts walking again. Slowly. Carefully.
"Real clever." He smiles. "You ain't as dumb as you look."
The insult should sting, but instead you smile. It's barely there, just the slightest twitch at the corner of your mouth. But Otis seems to see it- or at least feel it.
"You smilin', ain't you?" His eyes narrow, that crooked grin slowly spreading across his face.
You immediately press your lips together.
Otis laughs.
"Oh, don't do that now." He takes another step. "You think I didn't see it?"
You stay silent.
"You havin' fun?"
Your pulse jumps, your stomach flutters.
"Well, look at you," he says, like he's just discovered something fascinating. He shakes his head, laughing to himself. "Little rabbit's got a mean streak."
You bite the inside of your cheek.
"Don't think I don't like it." He pauses. "I do."
Something warm twists beneath your ribs, and you curse yourself quietly for how much you like hearing him say it.
Otis studies the woods for another moment before slowly turning his head. His attention settles somewhere just beyond you, his expression changed but irritation still twitching beneath his skin.
"You know, mama," he says, his voice carrying easily through the trees, "I was startin' to think you didn't like me."
You swallow, keeping your hand firmly over your mouth.
"All that runnin'..." He gives a quiet laugh. "Then, you go and hide on me."
He takes another step, and you can no longer see him clearly through the trees.
"That's kinda cute."
Your stomach flutters, but you still don't know where he's gone.
A moment ago, you could see the pale blur of his hair between the trunks, but now there is nothing except darkness and the faint rustle of leaves.
You hold your breath, straining to listen, trying to follow the sound of his footsteps, but they seem to come from everywhere all at once.
Then his voice drifts through the trees again.
"You got real brave when you thought I couldn't find ya."
Your fingers curl into the dirt beneath you.
"I like that."
The words are teasing, almost affectionate, and somehow more unsettling than the anger had been.
You hear him moving again, slow and careful. He isn't crashing through the woods anymore. He's taking his sweet time, deliberately making you listen for him, letting you wonder where he is while he knows exactly what he's doing to you.
"You know what I think?"
His voice comes from somewhere to your left.
"I think you wanted me to lose you."
Your heart gives a hard, traitorous thump.
"I think you been sittin' comfy this whole time, wantin' me worked up." He laughs. "That's mean, mama."
You can hear the smile in his voice.
"I kinda like mean."
A branch cracks behind you.
You twist around instinctively, but there is nothing there.
"See?" His voice is coming from your right now, your head darting back in that direction. "Look at you."
You press yourself harder against the fallen log, trying to make yourself smaller as the strange excitement building beneath your fear makes it almost impossible to stay still.
You want to see him again, want to know where he is. More than that, you want to know whether he is watching you now.
You glance carefully over your shoulder.
Darkness.
Then you hear him laugh. Almost as though he's right beside you.
"C'mon, clever girl."
Your breath catches, and you turn.
Still nothing there.
You slowly exhale, relief and disappointment arriving together.
Then something catches in your hair.
You gasp as Otis's fist closes around it and yanks you sharply backward, dragging you out from behind the fallen log before you can even turn around.
"Found you, mama."
He sounds delighted. His laughter rumbles beside your ear as you scramble against the leaves, trying to get your hands beneath you. But his grip tightens, and he pulls you toward him with enough force to leave you breathless.
You twist around, and he's there, crouched over you with that awful grin stretched across his face. His pale hair falls messily around his eyes.
For a moment, neither of you speaks. You simply look at one another.
Then his eyes narrow.
"You're still smilin'."
Your stomach drops. You hadn't realized, but you were. You try to hide it, but the curve of your mouth had long given you away.
His grin widens as he gives your hair a small tug, just enough to make you look at him again.
"Don't go shy on me now, mama."
Your cheeks burn.
"You're just as fucked up as me."
The words should horrify you, but instead something sparks inside you. You look away, and he catches your chin again, turning your face back toward him.
"No, no." His eyes drag over your face. "I wanna see."
"Wanna see what?" you answer, your voice small from not having talked in a while.
Otis goes still for half a second.
"Wanna see that little look."
"What look?" The words slip out before you can stop them.
His grin becomes enormous.
"The one you got right now." He leans closer. "Like you're wonderin' what I'll do now that I've caught you."
You swallow, and he watches your throat bob.
"You wanna play, don't you, mama?"
Your breath catches, and for one reckless second, you almost say yes. You bite it back, giving him the faintest of smiles.
"Maybe."
Otis stares at you, then laughs; a surprised, almost delighted sound.
"Maybe?" He shakes his head. "Bullshit. Don't give me maybe."
His fingers tighten in your hair, his eyes studying your face, searching for something.
"You were brave enough to hide from me," he pauses, "watch me, smile when I caught you."
He leans closer.
"But now, you're shy?"
You say nothing.
He gives your hair another tug, a small noise escaping your lips involuntarily.
"C'mon." His voice drops into a teasing murmur. "Tell me."
You look up into his eyes, the fear still there—you can't pretend it isn't. But it's tangled up with something else now. Something that lights a fire in the depths of your stomach. You squirm beneath his grasp.
"Tell me you liked it," he says, almost breathless.
You swallow.
"Didn't you, rabbit?"
Your lips part, but no answer comes. Surprisingly, he waits.
"Maybe you're not the rabbit after all."
His gaze drops briefly to your mouth before returning to your eyes.
"Maybe you're just pretendin'."
Your pulse jumps.
He sees that, too.
"Maybe you wanted me to catch you."
You hesitate.
Otis smiles.
"There's your maybe again."
He gives your chin a gentle tap.
"I'll get a yes outta you eventually, mama."
Then he straightens, looking down at you with that same wild grin.
"And when I do..."
He pauses deliberately.
"...we'll see who's really playin' who."
Pushing Boundaries
Fandom: Firefly Trilogy
Pairing: Otis x female reader
Word count: 4,310
Warning: Death, jealousy, cannibalism, werewolves. Everything in this series is likely some sort of trigger?
Author's Note: Part four of Monsters in Plain Sight. Thanks to @tinalbion for allowing me to tease this idea and play it in a few different ways before it ultimately settled like this. And huge thanks to @warriorqueen1991 for reading to assure me that it wasn't as choppy as it felt. As always, likes are appreciated, but comments and reblogs are what keep the muses fed and the writing coming.
The moon hung low in the darkness, hovering just above the horizon. Seemingly like a vast expanse waiting to be explore. It provided more light than was typical, glowing over the arid land that was the middle of nowhere Texas. Few would truly appreciate it's beauty the way that it deserved. And that was okay. Becuase they didn't need to. They just needed to be out and about, stumbling through the barely lit landscape. Be it through drunken revery. Or some misguided attempt to connect with nature. Really, any reason that drew they out was good enough for you. With keen night vision, visibility was hardly ever a problem for you, though if they could see better, it meant that they could see you coming. So, it presented a different sort of challenge for any hunt. You had to be more aware. A little more stealth was required. Not that such things bothered you, in fact, it presented a little more of a challenge and therefore was just a little more fun. The bright, soft light gave hunting a more ethereal feeling, bringing you that much closer to the vast world around you, less human. The guardian of the night was ever the watchful presence and on nights like tonight, she never felt closer and more powerful. A cascade of howls echoed through the flatland, a predatory joyous sound that echoed doom for some poor, unfortunate soul.
Screams soon mingled, desperate sounds that were doomed to go unanswered. Frenzied growls and snarls could be heard for several long moments before the near dead silence took over once more. Only those closest to the scene of the slaughter could hear the crunch of bones and wet sounds of flesh being torn. Meaning no living soul heard a thing.
A good hunt was deeply satisfying in a way that was almost impossible to put into words. Perhaps that was part of the reason that it had been easier for you to allow yourself to get closer to the Firefly family. Not only were they predators like you, not only were they killers, they understood the urge and the feeling that came with the kill itself. They understood the need for it. Foxy wasn't any different from the rest of his family, even if his overall demeanor was more calm, maybe even what could be classified as more relaxed and humorous. He had slotted into routine nearly effortlessly. As if he had been there the whole time. It had only taken him a few weeks to be able to adjust, to understand, to adapt. He was able to learn quick and get the hang of things with a speed that you hadn't fully expected but maybe should not have been surprised to see. He belonged to the family and had proved it on that first hunt that you had taken together. Embracing the instincts and the demands of the beast was far easierwhen it had come natural most of one's life anyway.
The two of you ran and moved together on a runt like a well oiled machine. As if you had been part of the same pack for years rather than you teaching him as a new wolf. If you hadn't already been integrated into the pack and accepted the Fireflys as your own, with a similar ease in finding a routine, it may have given you pause and brought up far more worry and concern. Evenings like this just felt natural and like it was meant to be. A very extension of your own being. Pieces simply fell into place. A deep sense of comfort and belonging. Your family. Your pack.
The hunt was over and you were making your way back to the house. Foxy was being a shit, as he often was. The sharp sting came each time that he nipped at your flanks and haunches. An annoying habit that he loved to use to get a reaction out of you. The occasional growlstipped from you and with each approach he made, you met it with a half-hearted swipe. Your claws would catch his snout every so often, retaliation for his teeth catching your flesh. No true damage done on either end, a clear show that it was all play between the both of you. Live a pair of siblings that knew where the line was and where it could not be crossed. There was no need to cause some injury that was genuine or take a little time to heal. You weren't far from the house when Foxy became a tad more insistent in his actions. A particularly hard nip actually buckled your legand caused you to turn and tackle him without any warning. Sure, playing was one thing but there was that line. Some excess energy too. It was easier to workout now, in this method, than at thehouse. Each play fight also benefitted Foxy. It taught him how to use his body, his strength, his weapons against another wolf. The chances of you coming across another wolf was slim. But, when he went back out on the road the possibility was higher than he assumed.
Not to mention, the surprised sound that came of the still newly minted wolf was well worth it and any light injury that could come. Instantly, they were tumbling and rolling around in the dust like a set of pups. Inhuman snarls and growls filled the air once more. Vicious sounds that gurley caught the attention of whoever was may have been in the front of the house. Hardly a concern. Your focus was on ensuring Foxy learned a lesson and did not get the chance to act smug because he got one over on you. With a quick motion, you had him by the scruff of his neck. There was just enough pressure to get him to pause. You thought he was about to admit defeat. Instead, he swiped out and shook, attempting to toss you forward. That was something that was entirely unexpected and you lost your balance. A fact that he used to his advantage and twisted out of the hold that you had on him. The movement was faster than anticipated and your own momentum allowed him to get the upper hand. In the blink of an eye, you were pinned down beneath the newer wolf. If Foxy could have grinned, he would have. It came out in the form of an excited little whine. With his back paw pressed into your stomach, weight helping keeping you pinned, and his own teeth pressed to your jaw. The position was a tight one, likely not something that you could free yourself from without some injury and a distraction to him.
After a few seconds, where he surely was gloating, Foxy finally released the hold he had on your neck and playfully nuzzled against you. He hadn't eased up his other hold yet. You huffed, wriggling to try and get yourself free, nipping at his muzzle which only brought more amused to the other. After a few more moments of teasing, he finally shifted back to let you up and you mistakenly thought it was the end of it. His larger frame pressed to your side, head butting your softly. The affection and play wasn't anything that was all that unusual for wolves, built into the genetics of the pack animal mentality. It was with ease that the two of you shifted mid stride, the laughter that came from the man suddenly filling the air.
"Yeah, keep it up asshole." You shot back, though the grin likley ruined the effect. You couldn't deny that you enjoyed spending time with the other wolf. He had thrown an arm overe your shouders as you made your way to the house. A conversation about the hunt had been started, leaving iyou a little oblivous to the fact that the door had opened.
"The fuck is going on out here?" As automatic as breathing, your eyes shifted over to find Otis, the smile still on your face. It was a contrast to the scowl that adorned him, a little deeper than the near permenant one that was often around. Foxy was still laughing, his arm not moving from your shoulders and all but ignoring the presence of his half brother. Feet carried you towards the man in question, slipping from the grasp of the one beside you. A small squeeze and your body was slotted between his and the railing on the porch, no thought given to the tension that screamed out in his posture or the fact that he had yet to look to you, his gaze still fixed on Foxy. There was no thought given to the dirt and blood that caked your hands and your neck. No one in the family minded, least of all Otis.
"Just getting back from a hunt." Fingers played at his waist line before the touch settled halfway between his abdomen and his side. "Apparently the cooler weather brings out more drunken idiots." As Foxy came up the stairs, Otis stepped closer to you, pinning you against the railing as hi hands found your hip, squeezing tightly. The touch wasn't anything that you weren't accustomed to, so little thought was given to the act. In fact, it was something that you welcomed more than anything. Your healing ability meant that you didn't often wear marks that he could leave but that didn't mean that those he managed weren't proudly held for the short time that they were present.
"It was a damn good one too." Foxy had shifted closer, still grinning wildly. "Fuckers didn't know what hit them." That was when you felt it. The underlying rage that was rising within Otis. Muscles taunt, ready for a fight. Maybe something had happened int he house while you and Foxy were out. Those warning bells were ringing in your head, demanding that you do something to soothe the situation. Your fingers slipped to his waistband again, giving it a little tug in hopes that the action would pull his attention from Foxy to you.
"Nothing saying that you and I can't go out on a hunt." It was one thing to get in time as a wolf, it was another to do so as a human. Besides, you liked watching Otis work. The calculation and methodology was very different from anyone else. Well, often he didn't have to hunt down prey. They came scurrying along from the aid of others.
The offer finally caused him to look back to you and you could see the hint of red that was lingering in those blue iris. Calculating. They narrowed slightly, clearly an assessment of the offer. As if you were attempting to trick him with the comment. Hardly. Maybe when you were feeling up to the task, you would tease the man that was your alpha, but never would you be so mean as to tease him with a hunt. You offered an easy smile, remaining relaxed and comfortable under the possessive hold.
"Fuck off, Foxy. Bunny and I need to talk." Instead of taking the unspoken warning that was layered within the words, Foxy inched closer still.
"Aww, why don't I grab Baby and we make it a family thing?"
"I said, fuck off." Otis shoot his brother a look that was normal reserved for the victims that came wandering into the lair of the Firefly clan. Deadly serious. For just a moment, you thought that Foxy was going to continue to challenge Otis. It certainly looked like he was about to say something else but Baby came wandering to the door. baby might be the most unhinged of the family, but she certainly knew how to read the brothers well.
"You guys are back!" She bounced out from behind the door. "Come on, Foxy. I have a surprise for you." With a quick grab of his hand, she gave the man no chance. Thankfully, she wasn't looking to instigate the issue and watch in amusement, something that had been done on more than one occasion. Foxy's gaze lingered on you for a moment and you gave a subtle nod of your head to get his ass moving before there was a fight. Otis was coiled tighter than a spring and ready to snap. The two disappearede inside, though it hardly brought any relief to the man before you.
"I may have gotten my hands on a piece of information about some tourists coming through the area…some traveling entertainment group or another. Six or seven of them at most, but thought it would make a nice little gift for you." His free hand reached up, gripping the back of your neck with a bruising force, making a small whimper come from your throat before you could catch it. Instantly, you were further relaxed against him, fighting the hold in order to bare your neck to him.
"You have me curious." He murmured before leaning in and biting harshly at the junction of your neck and shoulder, surely drawing blood. If he kept that up, you might just never get to tell him about the hunt that was going to happen. Thought was quickly draining from your awareness, focus narrowing down to the man before you. Agitated, frustrated. Something definitely had set him on edge. There was blood on his lips as he pulled back, the lingering hints of anger still playing over his face. "Charlie called. Cutter and I gotta head out to help him take care of some shit. Need you to hang around the house, keep an eye on Baby and Ma." That level of trust wasn't to be taken lightly. RJ and likely Foxy were still going to be around but that was not an offer that you would shrug off. With Foxy around, you had sort of resumed half living in the house, half living out on the land again. Living in the house for a few days wasn't the worst. Maybe it was about time to be home anyway. That's what the Firefly house was. The pack home.
"I can do that." He nodded.
"Good. Now, up to the room. I wanna hear about this hunt." His grip barely relaxed on you. In fact, he seemed content to refuse to release the hold that he had on the back of your neck. Instead of fight it, you found yourself laughing a bit, leaning in to lick at a spot of blood that had trailed down his chin before shifting, mindful of the grip to do just as he asked.
******************
Three days into your stay within the confines of the house and things had been eventful, as anticipated. Yet it hadn't. Baby was more than happy to have you around. Cuddling, talking your ear off, making you help her play with some of the toys that had been kept around. No hunting just yet and oddly enough, that was fine with you. Mama was thrilled to have you back arouns full time, fussing over you like she had done when you first arrived. Having home cooked meals wasn't anything to bat an eyelash at and you weren't in the business of complaining about it. The others either acknowledged your presence and moved on about their lives or asked for help here and there. All except Foxy. The other wolf in the house had been particularly clingy. His presence was almost always near and if it wasn't hanging back to watch, it involved some sort of contact. For the most part, you chalked it up to being a new wolf. Pack instincts were difficult to shove down and ignore. You had time to get used to it, years of forced and self imposed practice at it. Between him and Baby, you rarely found any personal space but has grown accustomed to it once more so it hardly bothered you. The time you did get alone was spent in Otis's room. Surrounded by the familiar scent soothed the urge to run and ignore the responsibility that had been laid on your shoulders. You also wouldn't admit it aloud but you missed the man. Sure, you could go a few days without seeing one another still at times. But, it was different since he wasn't well within reach.
Things went on that way for another few days until it had been almost a week since Otis had left. beyond the normal chaos of life, nothing terrible had happened. That left you feeling a bit proud to be bal eto make such a report when Otis did come back.
The strongest heat of the summer had finally set in, making the days miserable. You were thankful that you were inside. Baby was in her room, doing who knew what with the toy that had been hanging on. Surprisingly. The fans that were going in the living room and the low hum of the television as it played the old movie was creating a pleasasnt white noise. Lulling and relaxing. There was plenty of things to be done. As always. But, the majority of the important chores had been finished. You had helped Tiny earlier in the day, spending a few hours dragging some bodies out to another burial site about two miles off the property.
Relaxing on the couch, your attention was only half on the film playing on the TV. Foxy had sprawled his lanky frame across the couch, his head in your lap. While his eyes were trained on the screen, he had been spouting off about a money making idea. You snorted softly, rolling your eyes as you glanced down to finally see him looking up at you, grin stretched out across his features.
"Take that smoke and blow it up someone else's ass," ypu replied, shaking your head. "I don't like people. And I don't have any interest in fucking on camera."
"Never said anything about fucking on camera."
"You honestly think I would believe you're going to start a legitimate movie studio?" You raised your brow and Foxy laughed. "That'll be the day I become a fucking vegetarian."
"Aww. Come on." Foxy knew he was defeated but that didn't mean that he was going to give up on the idea or the teasing. That much you had learned about the man since he had arrived at the Firefly homestead. You growled lowly. To which, the little shit that he was, just growled back and playfully snapped his teeth. You shoved his head off of your lap in respone. It pulled an amusing whine from him, something far more pitiful than he should have been capable of given what you knew of the man.
A familiar scent reached your nose and suddenly, nothing that had been happened mattered. You stepped over Foxy, who hadn't realized what you were doing and reached out to grab a hold of you, snagging you around the waist and pulling you back down. Right into his lap. Another growl, this time far more aggressive rumbled from within and you smacked at his arm, ready to use claws and draw blood if need be.
"What's the rush?"
"Let go." Of course, he didn't listen, keeping you pressed to his frame. Strength matched strength so it wasn't like it was the easiest to break free from his hold. The previous threat that had gone unspoken was held, your claws digging into his forearm.
"Fuck, come on Bunny." He grunted and his arm dropped away, leaving just enough of an opening for you to slip from his grasp, just as Otis entered the room. It may have appeared a little overeager but you had wanted to greet him at the damn door. The problem? The look on his face screamed murder, his entire posture coiled and ready to launch an attack. It would have been amusing to see him bear his teeth, towards Foxy of all people, as if he was a wolf. However, it was a situation that you had to diffuse quickly unless you wanted a blood bath on your hand. Did you really think the two would make a serious attempt on each other? No. They were family. But, the amount of rage that was rising in the room was palpable. Foxy held his arm, watching the wounds heal, not yet looking towards Otis. Probably a good thing if you were honest.
"Didn't expect you back for another few days." You moved over to him but this time, his attention didn't slip over to you.
"You wanna explain to me why you were touching Bunny like that?" The words were remarkably calm for the anger that you felt rolling off him and that was not good. A calm angry Otis was the most dangerous Otis.
"Relax Whitey." Foxy started, finally looking up and taking in the challenge that was before him. It hit you in that moment, watching his jaw tick and Otis practically grind his teeth. He thought Foxy was trying something. Jealousy? Maybe. Possessive? Beyond a shadow of a doubt. No one had ever been a real threat to the position before now. Men could look, chat, make passes but they were nothing more than prey and meals to you, something that Otis always knew. Foxy was different. Foxy was a wolf. Foxy was a memeber of the family, a killer. Someone who understood the life. Actual competition. Suddenly, smaller things that had happened over the last few weeks snapped into focus. Reactions that Otis had over things that you hadn't given much thought. Still, it wasn't possible that Foxy was interested. Right? No, he was being a wolf.
"Don't tell me to fucking relax." He stepped closer to Foxy, one hand curled at his side and the other inching towards the spot on his leg where he kept his knife. That would be an utter shit show. Briefly, the thought that perhaps it was time to turn Otis flickered through your mind. Now was hardly the time to entertain it. It would make the fight a tad more fair. How you ended up separating them was a question tghat you had no answer to just yet. You shifted, keeping closer to Otis for now, attempting to draw his attention off of Foxy. "I'll fucking relax when you keep your fucking hands to yourself."
The growl that came was warning enough for you. Foxy wasn't backing down. Though, in hindsight it shouldn't have come as a surprise when Otis was the first to swing. Apparently, his normally razor thin sense of patience was entirely nonexistent today. It was that first movement that had caught Foxy off guard. He hadn't thought Otis would really do it. The blow landed square on the jaw, snapping his head to the side. Eyes red, teeth bare, and utterly feral. Otis wasn't wt all in any sort of state to realize that it wasn't the smartest idea to pick a fist fight with a wolf. And you didn't want to see the reaction that could come from Foxy. Under any other circumstance, you were certain that they would probably each walk away with some bruises and that would be it. But, Foxy was a wolf. Both men's emotions were ramped up. The consequences now were far greater. You shoved your way between them, body blocking Foxy in the process as he went to lunge back at Otis.
"Foxy, fuck off. That's enough." Your own snarl mingled into the words, fighting a shift. It wouldn't be helpful in any direction. Tiny and RJ seemed to appear at the commotion. Thankfully it wasn't Baby. Those two were less likely to cause more agitation. Foxy snarled back at you, truly animal like. "I ain't dealing with this fucking pissing contest." Not that your words mattered to the rage that fueled the movements. Nor was the involvement appreciated. From either party it seemed. The rake of claws against the skin of your back was painful but the wound would heal quickly enough. The repressed grunt was enough to push Otis over the edge, knife flashing wildly. Thankfully, Mama appeared and let out a shout, enough to momentarily distract the men and let you shove Foxy in the direction of Tiny and RJ. They understood the silent command well enough and shifted to try and corral the other wolf out of the room.
"What is going on?"
"Sorry, Mama..." You apologized, though Otis was still in the middle of his fit and before anything else could pass your lips, his hand clamped tightly around your throat. You gave a subtle motion for Mama to head off while relaxing entirely under the harsh grasp. Fighting it would only make whatever was happening worse. Or maybe he wanted a bit of a fight. You focused all your attention back onto the raging beast of a man, who was all but snarling in his own right. Blood soaked your shirt but the wounds on your back were healing already. The knife in his hand was brought up to your cheek, point pressed hard enough to break skin. Oh, he was seriously pissed. The knife didn't always come into play and when it did? It was never the face.
"The fuck has been going on?" You knew that the honest answer wouldn't be believed but you weren't about to lie to him either.
"Can't speak…for Foxy." It was hard to push the words out as he compressed your windpipe. If you wanted him off of you, you could easily make it so but you weren't about to do that. "Nothing. Only….you, Otis." Foxy could bark up that tree all he wanted. You only had eyes for the man before you. Now, it was seeing what needed to be done to get back in his good graces.
Otis sleeps with corpses, his favorite victims, on any given day, but when you come around it's the first time in a long time that he's woken up to a warm body and he'll spend an uncomfortable amount of time staring at you as you breathe wondering what kinds of ideas you'll give him today
I will also write for Otis Driftwood when I get my phone🙂↕️
And other Bill Moseley characters,,
waa
I'm taking requests for Otis and Baby from Ho1000C.
Read the rules and stuff before requesting.
Bᵣₐₙdₑd ₗᵢₖₑ Cₐₜₜₗₑ
Word count: 1,392 Pairing: Ho1000C!Otis x GN!reader[but Otis refers to reader as mama at some points, but no gender or spisific pronouns are ever used or described] Summary: While doing some grunt work(butchering some bodies cuz mama asked you to do so and you can't say no to that women), Otis who's your relationship with is... complicated, finally decided to make it official, by burning his name into your skin. Content warning: Otis cuz that stinky fuckers a warning in itself, abuse, murder, mentions and slight descriptions of gore(?), branding of person with a caddle brand, burning, harm of reader, death, corpse's, branded calf/metion of a hurt baby animal, cruelty, swearing, Author's note: hello, I have found myself within the past two weeks being thrusted into a deep fascination with Rob Zombies FireFly trilogy, and after finally watching 3 from hell last night after re watching Ho1000C maybe over 7 times and DR over 4 times I finally wrote and finished my precious Otis oneshot after inhaling copious amounts of fanficion and still not being satiated.
Otis was always the creative type. He dipped his toes into many mediums, his favorite far being humans, but he dabbled in others as well. One of those being metal work, I mean he and the Fireflies live out in the sticks, Otis has to have developed some conventional skill for it when doing home repairs with his brothers, and well, he has incorporated it into his art, but frankly it was too time consuming to be worth it in the end.
Until now at least. He was out around stalking through the woods, after a week of not leaving the house, looking for some fresh inspo a new victim. He didn't know how far he traveled, till through the brush, he saw some fences keeping in some cows, nothing odd really considering the area they're in, he was about to write it off and take his leave, until something caught his eye.
A calf, couldn't be more then a year old, the white hair on it's hind, stained. Red. Bloody. The flesh was pink, freshly scorched from where the farmer had branded the young livestock.
And there he had it, fresh inspiration, and the answer to his art block. A wicked grin split his face. As he skulked home, he couldn't help but nip at his chapped busted lips in anticipation. He had an idea he was impatient to execute and he knew just who he was gonna test it on...
☠ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ٠࣪⭑
It was hot out, AND I MEAN HOT OUT. The Texas summer heat was basically unbearable, the shed you sat in did little to nothing but provide shade, mixed with the manual labor they put you up to, you knew it was gonna be a sweat fest so you threw on some shorts and a baggy T you didn't care about.
And off you were.
To the shed.
Where you now stand.
Infront of a naked girls body....
Now that the Firefly family had their fun with her when she was both alive and otherwise, it was time to gut and skin this bitch, butcher her like a fucking pig. So the family can well, do whatever they want with her remains. I mean, thats all Mama's instructions really were, "butcher her like a pig, just like RJ showed yuh", were her exact words, so what was going to happen to this Jane Doe's butchered remains were unknown to you.
But who were you to say no to that women?
Though, it's not like your weren't used to it by now, you were usually assigned grunt work like this, either you or it was Tiny or RJ, but RJ had a real job he had to attend to, and why would mama make her Tiny work when you could do it instead. The only other person who touches jobs like these is Otis. It's not like he has a aversion to corpse's, on the contrary he has a very distinct infatuation with them.
But you can tell Otis is done playing with this chick's remains by the dried semen between her thighs and her heavily mutilated face.
Sighing, you finally relent, breaking you gaze away from this girl's mangled cadaver, you grabbed the cleaver off the work bench, gazing up around at the strung up women bodies around you, most people would be frightened, but it was something you were used to by now, so much so thats the quiet of the dead was almost comforting, or was at least preferable to the screams, cries, and begging of the living victims.
Finally when you brought you hand up, ready to swing down that meat cleaver with a force to sever the women's head from her vertebrae, you were caught off guard by the sudden unexpected presence of a person right behind you, their chest a mear inch from your back, your ears were filled with the slightly nasally yet raspy voice of a man you know all to well, "Hey mama..."
Startled, your swing weakend and you missed, the bottom edge of the cleavers blade slices through the side of the corpses neck, "fucking hell...", you grunted as blood splattered onto your hand and onto the bench.
You shifted your gaze over to the dirty man behind you. "Who you talking to, me or Ms. Rigor mortis here..." you said gesturing to the corpse laying before you. You could glimpse the eye role from behind you, "I'm talk'n to you bitch..." he grumpily grunted.
But before you could open you mouth to question him as to what the hell he was doing, he beat you to the punch, "listen up sugar I need yer help with something, I've got a new vision for my art and I need a candidate for a test run..." his hand traveled to the hem of your shorts above your ass, you didn't think anything of it, cuz unsolicited touching was the only form of non violent physical affection Otis knew of. You glanced at the body you were supposed to be breaking down, assuming he was looking for a cadaver considering all those who participate in his art die or are already dead, and you'd like to avoid the thought that you'd take any part in it because of that fact, "I mean theres plenty of candidates, as you put, inside the house, I don't understand why you came outside to get a body from out he-"
Before you could finish your sentence you felt Otis grasp the hem of your shorts pulling them down along with your underwear, exposing your ass to the thick mid day Texas air. And before knew it you felt the air around your ass suddenly heat up before something scorching hot press into your ass cheek.
Involuntarily you let out a screech, you tried to jerk away but Otis kept you pinned to the bench with his surprisingly strong body, his hips pressed into your other ass cheek as his free hand wrapped around your waist. He held you still while you struggled, and you could feel his grin grow as tears flowed out of your bulging eyes, then it started.
"One... two...."
In a almost sultry voice he rasped out numbers.
"Three... four.... five....."
Your struggle slowed but your whimpers continued.
"Six... seven...... eight...... nine......"
You could hear him slow down his counting, purposefully drawing out your suffering. Bastard.
"Ten..."
And suddenly the burning object was pulled away from your hind, and the sound of metal hitting the ground filled the air, yet the pain did nothing to subside. You could feel him pull away, relinquishing his hold, but he still had you entraped.
"You did a great job, now everyone will know your my whore.." even his praise was crude, and his tone was condescending but the way his calloused fingers brushed the freshly inflicted wound was almost tender, caressing it in a way that was almost reverent, or well, it would be if you could ignore that he was the one who inflicted it.
You had long since abandoned the cleaver, opting to brace yourself on the work bench, white knuckling the splintering wood. "What the fuck.. was that for..." you turned to look at him with a burning face and teary eyes.
He just leered his sleazy crooked smile, "I told ya, you fuckin' deaf mama? I've decided I'm gonna keep you, officially..."
The audacity of this man was palpable, and all you could do was gawk at him. He clicked his tongue and pulled his gentle touch away, the only thing soothing the painful burn, and replaced it was a sharp slap on the ass. "Now get back to fuckin' work.." He snapped, turning round and picking up the implement of your pain off the dirt and walked away, out of the shed, and leaving you in quivering distress.
Abandoning you to not only pull your pants back up but pull yourself together, and sooth an anguish he created.
Carefully when you heard his footsteps disappear, you reach around to feel whatever the hell he just burned into your skin.
Tracing it out with the tip of your middle finger.
Repeating the letters out loud.
"O.."
"B..."
"D...."
It took you a minute to recognize it but it came to you eventually.
"Otis B. Driftwood..."
ᴏᴛɪꜱ ʙ. ᴅʀɪꜰᴛᴡᴏᴏᴅ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʙʀᴀɴᴅᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴄᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ...
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