"Permanently Tied." Freddy Krueger X Amber Cottrell.
Today is a big day! Today marks three years of me writing! And you all know what that means, the first thing I ever posted was chapter one of The Man Of My Dreams, so it’s been three years of this lovely little fic of mine, happy birthday to the baby that started it all! So to celebrate as per uze’ I wrote up Freddy and Amber thing, natch. I hope you allll enjoy it! Not super long, not super extra, but it feels very, very them and I had fun doing it which is the most important thing.
—
Length. 2.7K. Rating. Explicit. Freddy Kreuger X Amber Cottrell. Warnings: Amber Has A Real Bad Day. Banter. Teasing. Mentions Of Violence. Blood Play. Knife Play. Vaginal Sex. Dirty Talk. Just Freddy And Amber Being Freddy And Amber.
—
Today was a beast for poor Amber.
One of those days where almost everything went wrong. She loved her hair, the big mess of curls was one of her favourite things about herself but today no matter what she did before she left the house it was just that, a fucking untamable mess. She left the house on time but when she was halfway to her office, fumbling for her cell phone to answer a call she wasn’t paying close enough attention, her heel got caught in part of a subway grate. Worse still, it broke off, totally ruining her shoe and making her spill her caramel macchiato on herself in the process.
She had to hobble back home, cursing the whole way for the wasted drink, the horribly stained blouse and skirt that needed dry cleaning and her perfectly good patent leather Louboutin heel that was ruined beyond recognition. She couldn’t even pry the busted heel out of the grate so taking it to a cobbler to try and salvage it was out. She called her assistant, him on speaker phone on the table in her walk-in closet as she got redressed, informing him she would be late.
She had to change and couldn’t show up to work in a broken shoe and a ruined outfit, not with performance reviews today, she was up first before delivering some of the people she managed and he informed her that her boss called just before her and was going to be early.
She barely made it in time.
Her review was fine, better than fine, it was glowing, the one highlight of today. Her own reviews she gave were more disorganised than she would like, her lunch order was wrong, her computer was out of commission and needed IT to fix it, by five o-clock she was fucking bone tired and had totally written the day off.
She wanted to cook dinner, wanted to lose herself to the methodical nature of it, and help make up for the lack of breakfast and her terrible lunch. Sadly, dinner somehow got inexplicably burnt and she just about lost it. She tossed the smoking pan into the sink after turning off her smoke alarm and then picked up her cell phone and almost felt bad for the poor guy on the other end who took her pizza order which was surely the most angry pizza request anyone had ever put in at that particular establishment.
When her order was in, phone tossed down and forgotten, she busted out her nicest bottle of whiskey and poured a glass for herself, neat. She downed it in one painful swallow that burned in the most satisfying way and then poured herself another.
The pizza arrived in less than thirty minutes, she thrust the folded bills in the hand of the clearly nervous delivery person, but she didn’t blame them. Wild red curls around her head, her blouse unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, giving dead eyes and a vaguely angry expression, glass in her (Chipped! Another thing that pissed her off earlier-) manicured grip, saying nothing. She took the pizza in the other hand that wasn’t holding her glass and she slammed the door closed with her foot before walking into the living room. She sat on the couch, put down her glass and opened the box, about to eat the pizza right out of there, sans plate.
When she opened it, something made her stop.
She stared down at the offending box, around 50% of the cheese from the pizza stuck to the box's lid.
She sighed, closed the box, finished her drink and turned off the tv.
Today is done, it’s over, she isn’t doing this anymore.
She’d laugh if she had anything left inside. She stripped off, threw the clothes down, and left them on the bathroom floor. She ran a bath, used salts and oils and bubble bath and slipped into the scalding hot water and allowed the tension to start to melt out of herself. She breathed deep and let the smell of lavender soothe her frayed nerves. She got out when the water was significantly cooled, she moisturised, did her skin care, spritzed herself with perfume she knew he liked best, vanilla and honeysuckle but not just cloying sweetness, it had depth to it.
Making her way to her closet, she thought about how she was going to get to see him soon. Tonight was a big deal, she had hoped today was going to be a good day leading up to it but sadly it wasn’t, tonight was their anniversary, three years since he had been back and she was excited to celebrate it with him. She wasn’t going to let her terrible day dampen tonight.
She pulled out the bag from her closet that she had bought a month ago, fished out the white silk pyjama set that she knew Freddy would eat up. It was traditional, very, very unlike anything she had worn previously for him, it screamed innocence and begged two words, “corrupt me”, there was no way he wouldn’t love the change of pace.
Now in a much better headspace she made her way to bed, as fun as a good hate fuck is every now and again, she didn’t want to bring that energy to him this time.
She slipped into the sheets and stretched out, even after so long she still felt palpable excitement to see him on a night like tonight. It made falling asleep harder but no matter what, it always got to her eventually, just like him, he always got to her eventually.
The change from awake to asleep bleeds, it melts slowly, from her being conscious to un. She always becomes aware of it when she feels the sheets of the bed in the playroom as opposed to the ones on her own bed. She feels the weight of the mattress shift and her eyes slide open, she feels his hands on her body through the blanket and she looks up to see him, already almost on top of her, “There she is. Was wondering if you were ever gonna show up.”
“Awe, did I keep you waiting?”
“You did. Terrible, awful, girl. Making me hang around on a night like tonight. Maybe I shouldn’t give you your gift as punishment.” He teased and she laughed, a roll of her eyes, “We both know you aren’t gonna not fuck me tonight.”
He gasps, mock offence, “You think that is the only thing I got you?” His gloved hand to his chest and she laughs over his expression.
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” She taunts as she sits up and as the blanket slips down and pools at her waist he sees what she is wearing. “Oh. Now what-” He reaches out, feels her arm with his non-gloved hand, “-is this?”
“One of your gifts.” She says with a smile, leaning away a little bit as he takes in the creamy white silk covering her form. He yanks the rest of the blanket away to see the rest of her and she asks, “What do you think?”
“I thiiiink, it is very different from what you usually wear.” He said honestly and she hummed as he leaned in closer, “Good different or bad different?”
“Oh I think you know what kind of different.” He stated and she let him think he was going to let him kiss her and when his lips were an inch away from hers instead she fell back onto the bed and he groaned, his head tipping forward and she giggled. Looking up at him through her hair, playing with her fingers as she looked up at him, mocking with a playful pout, “What’s the matter Freddy? You don’t wanna work for it?”
“I didn’t have to work for it the first night you came sniffing around for me, why do I gotta work for it now when we are years in?” The tone shows he is joking and she reaches out, toying with the hem of his sweater. “Cuz it’s fun. Annnd you love me, and I humour you all the time.”
He sighs as if he is put out when they both know he is not. “Compelling argument you strike.”
She pats the space on the bed next to her and he takes her up on it, lays beside her, feet to head and facing her, one of his hands resting on her leg, looking towards her and asks, “So how was your day?”
A groan leaves her, one of her arms thrown over her eyes overdramatically in a fashion that makes him smile, “Terrible! The worst ever!”
She then proceeds to vent about her day, from the spilled coffee and broken heel to her burnt dinner and the ruined pizza that was surely congelling, grease leaking through the box onto her nice glass coffee table, and he listened. He actually validated what she said and agreed it was all bullshit. “Really?”
“Yes!” He said and she asked, “You don’t think I am overreacting?”
“Not at all.” He affirmed, his hands hadn’t left her, tracing slow and sweet patterns over the pyjama pants she was wearing. “Even the thing with my heels?”
“Hey I loved those heels, the ones with the red bottoms? They looked so good on you!” The look he was giving her she knew exactly what he was thinking of.
“Yeah you always did love 'em propped on your shoulders.” She said with a smile and he laughed, “Can’t sneak nothing past you.”
“Not after all this time, no.” She sighs, “Thanks for listening.”
“Of course, the least I could do.” He started to sit up, his hand not leaving her thigh as he asked, “Is there anything I can do to help fix such a shit fucking day?”
“I just wanna do whatever you have planned. You do have something planned, don’t you?” She asks sweet as pie.
“You think I don’t have something planned? Honey, you wound me deeply.”
“Hardly. Give me that glove and we can talk about me wounding you deeply.”
“Have you thought about this a lot?” He asked and she laughed, reaching out she plucked up his gloved hand, “Oh yeah, don’t you know? I masturbate exclusively to the thought of me murdering you with your own weapon.”
“I knew it.” He accused her. He got up and held out said gloved hand, “C’mon, let’s go.”
She hums and takes what he offered as she always did. Turns out the plans took them to some well loved and previously enjoyed spots, a drink out a certain club, all while recalling fond old times. “Remember last time we came to this club and I-”
“Fucked me in the alley so good I ended up flat on my ass? Yes! It was hilarious, my legs just gave out.” She laughed, “You looked like a newborn deer trying to walk after.”
“Did I ever tell you I called out of work that morning?” She asked and he laughed, “Fuck off! No you never said!”
“Well I tried to get up but it was a no go, I had to fucking crawl to the bathroom-”
After all of that, food was gotten at a particular restaurant, more good times recalled,
“So did you ever see Joseph again?”
“You mean after the time he tried to kiss me and you got so jealous you almost gutted me like a fish? Nope, steered clear after that.” It was said in a shockingly light tone considering how heavy the subject matter was.
“I wasn’t gonna kill you, fuckssake-” He groaned, a fond roll of her eyes, “Uh-huh, just what was your intention?”
“Just scare you real bad.”
“Well you accomplished that-”
And soon the gifts were exchanged. He laughed when he opened his, pulling out the silver object from the box with his non-gloved hand, “Really? You got the permanent burn victim a lighter?” He flicked it open and lit it once on the first strike before snapping it closed, snuffing out the flame, “Hilarious.”
“I thought so! But read it.” She encouraged and he did so, seeing the engraving on the other side, “Thank you for the fire you lit inside me.”
It made him have a small moment of pause, thumb ran over the embedded words, but instead of being sweet or acknowledging the touching gesture he instead teased, “Look at you. When did you get so fucking soft on me?”
“Freddy, c’mon, you’ve felt me all over, you know first hand how soft I am.” She joked and he sighed, “Open your gift already Amber.”
She hooks a nail under the red green silk ribbon that was tied around the red wrapped box, she pulls until the bow gives way and she opens the box and sees what he got her, “Ooh! New piercing set!” She lightly touched the polished dark green metal, “Ooo, different colour this time.” She lifted the matching pieces out, turning them over in her fingers. “You gonna outfit me in the whole rainbow eventually, hm?”
“Only took you this long to figure it out, I’m shocked.” He said before taking a sip from his bourbon.
“I’m slow on the uptake sometimes, can you blame me when you distract me so often?”
“I’ll let it slide this time. You wanna put those new ones in?” He asked and she laughed hard into her glass, before she set it down, “Here? At the table?”
“I’ve fucked you on this table in front of the whole restaurant before but sure, you changing out your piercings is too far?”
“Heaven forbid I have some boundaries left.” She finishes the rest of her drink, “We can head back and maybe you can help me change em yourself.”
“Tempting offer.” He agrees as he gets up and takes her hand.
They never got to him helping her change her piercings, both were a little too distracted a little too quickly for that. He used his glove to shred her nice pyjamas, he popped the buttons off so the top hung loose and open, pretty tits on display, pants mostly cut apart giving him the ample access he needed to torture her and please himself. It didn’t take much for it to escalate to its current point, there was no need to rush but sometimes the need they feel is too much to take their time.
Amber is riding Freddy as they are sitting up, both of them very, very into it, bodies pressed almost as close as can be. She pulls back from him, slightly, breaking the very sloppy kiss they had been sharing, a soft moan of, “Freddy.”, gracing her lips.
“Amberrr-” He almost purrs her name back, a clench of her on him, another rush of arousal pouring through her chest and straight to her overheated cunt.
Panting, she asks around a half laugh, half moan, “Fuck, is it possible to be addicted to hearing the sound of your own name?”
He laughs too, “Shit, I dunno, let’s test it, eh? Say my name.” Her arms looping around his neck, rolling her hips she breathes to him, “Freddy-” His head falls back with a groan, thrusting up into her harder, “You know, I think you’re onto something.”
A breathy giggle breaks out, she starts “You narcissistic fucker-” He cuts her off, “Hey, you’re one to talk! This was your fucking idea-” Another series of hard thrusts upwards makes her shudder, a series of broken moans leave her open mouth, “-Amber.”
The son of a bitch said it just the way she adored when he did, focusing on the M, stretching out the R, lingering on it as if every syllable was a delicious treat for his senses.
“What? No cute little comment?” He asked and when her pleasure addled brain made her response take too long for his liking he stopped cold and she groaned, a shake of her head, “No, no, ju-st keep going-” When he did she gasped, clung closer, even with her thighs trembling she resumed her earlier pace, slamming down to meet him in the middle, “Fuck! Right there!”
This is just what she needed, being rendered physically unable to focus on the bullshit of earlier, instead she could come here and lose herself in the feeling of shredded and blood soaked silk plastered to her broken skin while getting fucked totally dumb. She loved being able to go to sleep, to rest and come and see him, he fixes all of that so easily, hopelessly devoted and she knew he was in a similar boat, no doubt with how he touched her, looked at her, that he didn’t feel it all as strongly as she did.
lets give you some amber self indulgence. for research purposes. all of these questions of course imagine a why at the end of, but don't feel like you have to elaborate.
five colors you think are representative of amber?
what are some symbols that represent her in her mind?
what are her five comfort songs?
what would her perfect bedroom look like?
her favorite scent?
what fills her with the most nostalgia?
what's a moment she wishes she could change but knows it has to be?
if she got three wishes, what would she wish for?
besides being a blorbos, an oc, and all around amazing character, what does she mean to you?
i love you so much and i can't wait to see the answers!
Oh man this is so fucking exciting! What a great ask! I am so excited to go off on this, to just really delve into some interesting questions about Amber! So thanks up top for asking this! Now let’s get into it! Amber rambles under the cut!
Five colours you think are representative of Amber?
So the first two are obvious, red and green, the same colours as a certain guy’s sweater. Red is so obviously her colour overall, she looks amazing in red, clothes or nails or lipstick, it just suits her so well and green, well Amber has always loved the colour green. Long before him. She would sit in the backyard of her family’s home often, would love to read in her mother’s garden, she loves flowers and trees and plant life of all kinds, green brings calm and it looks fantastic on her too, she comes alive in green. Orange, bright and bold, fiery and the colour of her hair. I also think that a frosty sort of blue one that makes you think of winter fits her, reminds you of her eyes and of the big sky where her office building and apartment building stretches into. And the last one is white, like the blouses she wears to work often, of the bed sheets she regularly gets blood stains out of.
What are some symbols that represent her in her mind?
Things that represent her, hmmm! Let me think, when I think of herrrr. I think of the smell of smoke and whiskey served neat, of pretty but sharp manicures. I think of laughing so hard you snort and of a girl who is one of the nicest people you’ve ever met while drunk in a club bathroom. I think of the sound of heels on concrete and self confidence and high rise apartments. I think of strong coffee and sweet pastries and fashion forward business wear. I think of doing things you shouldn’t, having fun secrets, even if they are only with yourself.
What are her five comfort songs?
Amber loves musicals, she got the love of them from her mother, one of the few things that they had in common and bonded over, a safe topic for the pair of them to this day. The first musical she was shown was The Wizard Of Oz and corny as it may be, and as much as she doesn’t spread it around, Somewhere Over The Rainbow means a fuck ton to her and really loves that song. Especially when she started to hate her hometown and desperately wanted out, a better place, a place she could be herself finally. She still listens to it sometimes now that she IS in that better place, living how she wants.
Her favourite song, in her favourite musical is from Chicago, We Both Reached For The Gun, she loves the patter of it, the energy, she thinks it is irreplaceable in the musical theatre canon as a whole. Chicago was the first show she ever saw on an actual Broadway stage and was smitten. Get a few drinks in and ask her about Chicago and you’ll be treated to her going off about her thoughts, feelings, Roxy Hart herself and that Bob Fosse’s choreography needs more credit.
When that break happened, that long two year break where she was away from Freddy, over that time the song Cry by MIKA was like a pseudo break up song because she didn’t know IF he was ever coming back, if this was it. She cried a lot to that song, poured over it, and now it has taken on a different meaning now that he IS back and everything is fine, it doesn’t hurt to listen to it.
She loves the song Fantasy by Mariah Carrey more than she probably should, listens to it often when getting ready to go out, ever since getting with a certain someone, it has taken on more meaning, clearly. Mostly it is a fun song that makes her feel really good.
Sweet Relief by Kimbra makes her want to dance like nothing else, the amount of times she has worked out on her pole to that song is like, too many to count. If she is feeling down, this is the go-to, the fix her mood song.
What would her perfect bedroom look like?
This is a good one! I think honestly, probably a mix of her current bedroom and the playroom she sees Freddy in. She loves her bedroom’s big windows, the walk-in closet, her vanity, laid out with her jewellery and makeup, the hardwood floors and the reading corner. She loves the bed in the playroom the best, it is like a conversation pit you might see in the 70s but a bed, big, circular, built into the ground, pillows and blankets and impossibly soft, she feels so relaxed there, more so than anywhere else. If she could have the colour scheme of the playroom, lots of shades of red and white, the bed and the other parts of her room she adores, it would be perfect.
Her favourite scent?
She loves this one type of candle that is made at a little shop in her hometown, she stocks up whenever she goes back. The candle is Pink Grapefruit, it is sweet and citrusy and has surprising depth, she loves it.
What fills her with the most nostalgia?
Hearing the music from an ice cream truck. It reminds her of hot sticky summer days, eating sweet treats in the garden and reading, reminds her of rewards she bought herself after tough soccer games and swim practices and meets. It reminds her of the better parts of her childhood, when everything was easy and simpler and she had no complaints about her family or where she lived.
What's a moment she wishes she could change but knows it has to be?
Amber almost got a full swim scholarship in high school. Almost. She missed the meet the scouts were supposed to be at, through no fault of her own, the bus broke down, she was extremely upset about it at the time. She got a loan and went to college on her own terms and as much as she wishes she could have done that meet, and kicked ass and won her scholarship. Looking back on it going to college on her own merit was better, able to focus on herself and not be tied down by any vestiges of her past, there was massive pressure from her family to be a lot of things, a good athlete was one, shirking that when she went to college was definitely better for her in the long run.
If she got three wishes, what would she wish for?
Now this is a good question. Amber has so much of what she wants already but let’s drill down into this. Number one, she would wish to know if her sister is REALLY happy with her station in life or if she wants a life more like Amber, more freedom, not so tied down. Number two, she would wish for the uncanny ability to get tickets to whatever she wants, concerts, movies, shows, plays, whatever, she hates ever feeling like she misses out on something. And last, there is this vintage cream Valentino skirt she is obsessed with and feels a hole in her closet without it and would literally kill to have one in her size.
Okay, okay and the big one! What does Amber mean to me?
So again, I have said that I started The Man Of My Dreams on a whim, I didn’t know what Amber looked like at first, she didn’t have a name until chapter three of the story for fucksake. I figured her out along the way and fell in love with her in a big way, for how she is, what she did for me. TMOMD was the first fic I ever wrote, because of it I found this community and my passion for writing, because of it I met so many wonderful people like you, Bug! And whoever else is reading this. I made amazing friends, have pushed myself a lot creatively, experienced so much happiness and more that I never would have, without this funky little red-headed porn protagonist. And as much as I say that, we all know she is more than that, a lot, lot more than that.
Amber means a lot to me because well she is the kind of person I think I am and continually strive to be! Someone who is enthusiastic, funny, unapologetic, thoroughly herself and full of love and self confidence, kindness and willing to help others and of course, unflinching and unashamed in her sexuality and body. Being able to write a character like her and have so many people just love her, see her, identify with her or call her things like sweet or warm, it means so much! I love that I wrote a bunch of porn with some feelings and people fell for her. It makes me feel good, like I did something really right, I am glad she can be so much for so many people because she is so much in so many ways to me.
How she views and feels about sex is very similar to myself as well and this is just reminding me I need to do a big post talking about that already, maybe soon!
Thank you again so much for this Bug, I loved thinking so hard about this and going in so hard on it! Hope you like the Amber rambling. I love you!
i am not onky waiting to hear you out for amber cortell, but am actively kicking my legs n twirling my hair as i (respectfully✨️) impatiently wait for you to elaborate 😍😍😆
Welllll lemme tell you some of my ideas about Amber Cottrell Cam! AU! Basic warnings for camming, sex work and toy use under the cut.
Amber’s cam girl screen name is An_Actual_Accountant. She is known as a Triple AAA girl for fun, you know An All Access kinda girl, wink wink.
She is well known for her expansive lingerie and costume collection along with her long fiery red hair. She is sweet, friendly, personable but can turn on a dime when someone wants that sweet verbal degradation.
She owns a two bedroom apartment and one bedroom is her dedicated streaming space. It is red and pink and white. Lots of LED lighting around, you know that look. She has a big plush bed, a desk and computer setup, a vanity, toy chest, stripper pole, soft carpet and the room just screams a mix of comfort and sex, very inviting.
She remembers her regulars and actually gives a shit and remembers things about them and checks in. Her warmth is a big draw.
Literally though Amber has a closet full of outfits for streaming. She wears a lot of red, black and white lingerie and a few pink pieces. Lace, leather, vinyl are favoured fabrics, she loves thigh high stockings and garter belts and her collection of heels is unmatched, talking tall stripper shoes and high fetish looking stilettos and more.
Amber caters to kink hardcore, naturally. She typically takes a more dom role in her streaming. Due to her day job of being a higher up at her intensive money based business job she can do a great stern voice and has the posture and can really embody the vibes. Guided masturbation streams in this persona where she leans into humiliation do big numbers.
She is very flirty and fun. She does tons of themed streams that do really well. Stripping shows, toy nights, has interactive game nights too! One in rotation is letting the chat be in control of a vibe via tips while she does karaoke or a dramatic reading from an erotic book. Her favorite and well known and best game is where cam fans pay to enter and play “Edge To Edge” where you can go head to head in an edging contest with Amber. If someone outlasts her they get a personal stream for free of their choice!
Amber streams a few times a week. Wednesday streams are called “Happy Hump Day!” where she comes on in a more casual fit and all the show is grinding or humping based, will usually use a plug too or ben wa balls or both at once. Sometimes she grinds on a pillow, her pole or her sybian because yes she invested in one, and talks to her fans and answers questions. She usually streams Fridays, and Saturdays too.
She also has a collection of BIG toys, people love seeing five foot two little Amber taking massive toys.
Amber is a top ten streamer on her site of choice easily and has worked hard to get and maintain that position.
She does eventually do collab streams like with Alan Sharpe and also with a Mr.Fred Krueger who is also another well known streamer. They get involved at the behest of her fans and it is the best thing either of them have ever done, but that is something to talk about another time.
"Regarding Forever..." Amber Cottrell X Freddy Krueger.
SO! Here it is at loooong last! So a while back I did, “You’re Not Her.” Which was a massive angst fic about Amber dying and leaving Freddy behind. I hurt a looot of people about this and thought okay, but how COULD that be avoided? How could they be together forever? This is that. This is an AU of the happiest ending that they could have and stay together, always. This is to celebrate two years of my writing and the second birthday of The Man Of My Dreams! I poured so much into this and hope you all enjoy it! Let’s get into it!
—
Rating. Explicit. Length. 9.5K. Amber Cottrell X Freddy Kreuger. Warnings: Spoilers For The Man Of My Dreams. Some Re-Hashing. Strong Emotions. Pain. Angst. Comfort. Making Out. Oral Sex. Vaginal Sex. Riding. Pole Dancing. Major Character Death. Blood. Gore. Violence. Torture. Smoking. Alcohol Consumption. Domesticness. Sweetness. Pet Names. Just. A Lot. Vulnerability. So Much Context Is Needed. Freddy Is Soft And A Simp For Amber.
—
He isn’t even sure how the thought enters his head.
Well okay, that isn’t true. He knows. He was after some group of the typical young adults, and it was going fine, handling it all like a dream, pardon the pun. There were three left, should have them all taken care of by the weeks end but then the one he had intended on saving for last, that one who he’d been focusing on and tormenting the most, the one that was going to be the most delicious to kill, died.
And not by his hand.
Total freak car accident. They weren’t even driving, it happened out of nowhere. You think that might be great, one less problem, but no, not to him. He nearly had them, had picked them out and was so near to collecting his prize, all that work and effort, and delicious build up, wasted.
He still killed the other two but it was like all the fun had been sucked out of it. The enjoyment he derived from it was basically nil. Part of why he did this, was able to do what he did and have all this power was collecting the souls of those he killed, if someone dies from something that he has nothing to do with then he doesn’t get that all important reward. Talk about a spiritual cockblock. It’s like doing all the work during a group project only for someone else to take all the credit and shaft you on the final grade.
In short. It sucks.
It got him thinking about her. About how she was human, still so decidedly mortal and ultimately, because of that, fragile. He loved what they had, fuck, he just loved HER, but with him being an almost intangible imortal being tied to a realm tethered to reality via people’s dreams and her? Being human? It is destined to end tragically. She is going to die one day and leave him behind but could he handle that?
Could he live without her?
The thought didn’t sit right with him at all. Of doing everything he does that is so important to him without her? It made it all seem flat, bland, pointless.
She just made everything better. He didn’t think he needed anyone like her until she came along. Thought that violence and killing and fucking random people and those few that he kept around enough to hook up with semi regularly was enough to be content. That he could sustain himself off of that. But what is that old saying about how man cannot subsist on murder and pussy alone? Or something like that.
She was supposed to be one of those, a girl that was there to help relieve stress and be fun, and fucking God was she ever fun. She was supposed to be someone to see on a regular basis to use, but it shifted and wasn’t just that after long. He looked forward to seeing her, wanted to see her more and more, didn’t just fuck her, he talked, they shared, did some things other than the physical and that felt scarily good.
She fell hard for him and when she confessed months into their affair he wouldn't lie, he freaked out a little.
Took days of space to think.
The idea of someone loving him as he was now, let alone her loving him, was a lot to handle. No one had ever loved him, not truly. He was married when he was alive and human but he wasn’t himself. It was all a lie, an act to blend in. Someone loving him for him? That never happened and he thought it never would and he also thought he was fine with that.
Apparently he was wrong.
He wanted her all the more after that. Admitted his feelings were similar, saying those actual words were hard back then. But as everything progressed, it got easier.
He decided not only he didn't want to be without her but discovered that she felt the same. The words might have failed him but he expressed his feelings differently and she understood.
Again like I've said, they are both much more actions kind of people.
On their time together went when they were approaching a year together he was happier than he could ever remember being. He had plans to spoil her, really, really spoil her. A rather elaborate date planned out, gifts and more, the whole nine. Lord knows did she deserve it and did he want to do it for her.
But then, something awful happened. Maybe in his utter happiness he got lazy or sloppy or careless, ultimately it doesn't matter, a group of teens he'd been working over got the drop on him. Couple of them teamed up and somehow took him out.
When he came back and he realised what had happened, he frantically searched for how long he'd been gone.
Two. Years.
He had been dead for two years. She'd been alone without knowing where he had been for two years. He hated himself. The thought of Amber all alone, no explanation, did she think he hated her? How was she doing? Did she still love him? Miss him? Did she move on? So, so many questions.
He honestly almost hated how much she could make him feel. Whether when she was with him or not she had that talent of drawing emotions he thought were long dead out of him. The old him would have never been so concerned for someone else but the truth was he did feel that way, he did care, he missed her terribly and he had to know if he still had a chance, he had to see her.
But he couldn’t think or stress about how it would work out when he saw her again, not when there was so much to do before he could get to that point.
After the initial burst of emotion at realising how long he had been gone, after worrying about her and if she was safe, the next emotion to take over was naturally anger. Unrelenting boiling hot rage at those fucking teens who managed to kill him. Something had to be done of course, no way could he let them go on living, they had to pay.
The thing is how do you go about inflicting such revenge? How do you cause such suffering to make up for two years of lost time? For two years of hurt dealt not just to him but to her? Turns out he had some pretty good ways to go about it. Have you ever tried to entirely skin a human being without killing them? For the average person it is a tall order, but for him? Especially when he was so motivated? He did it with gusto and pleasure.
He made sure to really lay it on thick, “I bet you thought you were home fucking free. Two whole years thinking you were so safe. This is going to feel so fucking good.” The fear in the young man’s eyes was something he had missed immensely.
Even after he was done doing that he waited. Poor bastard was chained down, nothing but exposed muscle, veins and bones, bleeding profusely as Freddy took it easy. Kicked his feet up, soaked in red, looking as he suffers, struggles, listens to the screams as he conjures and lights a cigarette. That first inhale has his eyes nearly roll back as his head falls back, he exhales with a groan.
“Fuck, I missed these.” He said it to no one in particular, not like the man on the ground was capable of responding to him.
“You know you can’t smoke in hell?” He asked before taking another drag, exhaling with a laugh, “Well not how you’d want to be smoking anyway.”
The man wasn’t letting up, he was basically wailing, it made him roll his eyes, “Over dramatic. Can’t even appreciate my jokes when you’re like this. It’s really self centred, you know that?”
He decides he needs something else at that moment and as soon as he does the glass of scotch on the rocks is in his gloved hand. “I was thinkin’ of saving my first drink back to have with her but I’m pretty fucking stressed about seeing her again.” He took a sip and enjoyed the burn of it.
He was always talkative but usually it was all business, joking, threatening and taunting, certainly not such open conversation with even the smallest amounts of emotional vulnerability. That should really say it all for how much this was affecting him. He wasn’t used to being so off kilter, so afraid of how she might react, what would he do with himself if she wanted nothing to do with him? He shouldn’t get caught up in his own head, he should be confident in himself as usual, she always likes him like that.
Another shuddering sob from the man on the ground pulling him from his thoughts. He should get back to work. This isn’t the only one he needed to take care of tonight. He looks over at him, “Oh so sorry, do you want some? Here.”
He took another sip before standing up and dumping the rest of his drink onto him. He screamed so loud, it made Freddy laugh, “Awe, I hate it when someone can’t hold their liquor.”
Have you ever got really strong scotch in an open wound? No? Well let me tell you the sound the poor skinned bastard made would do a lot to communicate just how painful that experience is.
After the three of them were taken care of he felt better, stronger, more sure. He knew he had to do this, he had to see and more than that he wanted to, he was desperate for her. To see her, talk to her, God, to hopefully touch her, would she let him touch her? He wasn’t one to pray but this was the one situation to tempt him too, even if no one would listen.
It was a Friday night.
It made too much sense, no way would he pick another night, their usual standing date night way back when. He could feel her the same way he used to whenever she was tired or asleep. He let her get a little ways into an average dream before he pulled her to him, that he never forgot, no way could he ever, it was like muscle memory by this point.
He pulled her to that old room that they shared so many nights in and seeing her after so long made something pull at the area where one would assume his heart would be. Anyone who knew him would be convinced he didn’t have one, even himself, but apparently he did when it came to her.
She was clad in silk and lace that hung and framed her curves just right, it wasn’t the most elaborate or fancy thing he had seen her in by far but it was unmistakably her. She had her back to him but he could see long expanses of creamy skin covered in freckles exposed and that beautiful red curly hair, she’d grown it out significantly and so maybe it was a bad idea but it felt like them. Familiar and hopefully would break the tension, so he made a joke, or half of one, calling out to her, “You grew your hair out.”
He had been watching her closely since she first appeared, could feel the emotion radiating off of her, the confusion at being back here as she looked around, the hurt, and when she heard his voice how much she tensed.
She turned quickly and saw him and he couldn't stop himself from smiling. She still looked like her but there was something a little harder in those blue eyes, something off, but considering the situation that makes sense, it still didn’t dampen how happy he was to see her.
Emotion flicked over her face, fear, uncertainty, nervousness and more. Her fists clenched and she asked, “Is it really you?” He told her it was and she pushed wondering how she could be sure and he invited her to, “-come see for yourself.”
He was nervous too. She paused but ultimately she conceded, she came forward, he watched her cross the room, her steps were sure and confident even if the emotion radiating off her spelled otherwise. She refused to look away, she maintained eye contact with him the whole time and when she was close enough her hand met his glove and it moved so fast after that. She touched and inspected his glove and just him, she touched and felt his sweater and his face and then she took the initiative and invited him to put his gloved hand on her throat and grip. She did it, she invited him, they had been reunited for less than five minutes and she invited him to touch her and he couldn’t be happier. He gripped harder and she pulled him away, he wished she wouldn’t but he couldn’t rush, couldn’t push this but fuck he wanted to keep touching her.
He spoke up then, “Can I ask you a question?” and she smiled wide and told him, “You can ask, doesn’t mean I’ll answer.” He grinned and laughed and she followed. Any small worry he had that his own feelings for her might have changed were put to bed right then.
After the laughter stopped there was a pause and he told her, “I missed you.” He meant it.
She told him, “I really fucking missed you too.” and she meant it.
The night pressed on and she asked him for a favour, to say her name, he did it easily and she asked him to say it again and again and then said, “It really is you, Freddy.”
“It really is, Amber.” She touched him then, pulled him to her and dragged herself closer, his hands found her waist, he helped her up, she was so much shorter than him, and finally she kissed him. They got caught up in it, he pulled her up, her knees hugged against his hips, his hands under her thighs, holding her up and a few short moments later the kiss was broken with her punching him in the shoulder with an exclamation of, “Where the fuck were you?!”
It got a little violent from her after that. She was angry, understandably, she yelled, she cried, he held her, she pulled away and questioned him, so much rage and and all he could do was look at her with so much love. She would have never spoken like this to him before, she was really laying into him and he knew he should and he said, “I’m sorry.”
Yeah that shut her up. He apologised and owned up and meant it and she looked taken aback and dumbfounded. He promised to tell her where he was if she told him about what it was like for her when he was gone.
She agreed.
They leave the playroom behind and she brings them to her old apartment to be on a more even playing field to talk. He pulled out a bottle of the scotch they would always drink together and she brightened at that. They sit on the couch and they start talking. He tells her that he died and she looked so hurt, they talked and he was very open and vulnerable with her, very honest. It is during this conversation he expresses that he is in a similar situation to her, if she dies then he will be alone but if she dies then there won't be any coming back for her.
She had more questions and then she finally told him what she had been up to.
She had a busy two years. He loved this part a lot. Even though it hurt hearing about how upset she was, she shouldn’t have had to go through this at all. There were points where it felt like no time had passed, her sitting on the couch, looking at him, their knees touching, one hand in her hair and her other hand cradling her glass, that bright smile that made her eyes crinkle at the sides as she recounted another story enthusiastically. “You should have seen his face! You would have loved it.”
He was sure he would have.
She regaled him with her ventures, how she had managed to get two close personal friends, her coworker who had a long time pants busting crush on her, Mark and a sweet girl named Amanda who Freddy had pulled into a dream with them way back when for a bit of fun, to be her submissives. He was proud as she told him everything, how inspired she clearly was by him and her restraint, she didn't have sex with or hell, even kiss them.
Hours of them talking happened until he was all caught up. She seemed looser, happier, he felt the same, he was so happy to be back here with her. She slid into his lap and more sweet words were passed back and forth, she kissed him, he revelled in the feeling of her body pressed to his and the taste of her. She told him she wants to go back, and he asks if she is sure. She is and so they go.
She begs to taste him and when he feels her mouth on him again he has to fight back the urge to cum right then and there. He slipped between her thighs and didn’t stop until she begged him to and finally he had her again, nothing felt better, her under him, gasping and clawing at him begging for more of him. He was totally smitten with her, she had him wrapped around her finger too, he would do anything for her, even though he faltered when she asked him to hurt her he still gave in. How could he not when she explained her reasoning? How she needed the proof of his visits on her skin, how much they meant to her, helped keep her sane, he did it, he carved over that old now faded mark on her collar bone and she enjoyed every moment, as did he because she did.
She cried and he didn’t hold back after that.
It went on for a long time, they had quite a lot to make up for, he made her cum over and over and when they were finally done and she was laying beside him, heaving and soaked in blood and sweat, covered in marks from him all he could think about was how right she looked here, how beautiful she looked ruined by him.
They talked more afterwards. They made a promise that they would see each other every single night from then on, even if it was only for five minutes and they stuck to it.
They would see each other, would talk and fuck and the usual but it was much more than that now.
He was so happy she was back and she clearly felt the same.
It was many years into them being together again that he asked if she thought about her staying permanently.
She looked a little surprised. She was reclined on the big L couch, her clothing was still askew, cum leaking out of her well fucked cunt and she had barely caught her breath. She was mid-sip of her recently refreshed whisky when he asked and it had her sitting up suddenly, coughing before sucking down a deep breath, “So-sorry! I um, wasn’t expecting that.”
He was smiling into his own glass at her reaction. She adjusted herself, fixed her clothing as she was turned to face him better. “You…You’d really want that?”
He gave a single nod, “I do.”
So honest. “How do you feel about that?” She was looking down into her glass, a small shrug of her shoulders. “I uh.. Haven’t really thought about it to be honest, Fred.”
“Well I have.” He set his glass down, he scooted closer, he took her hand in his, “Amber I’ve been thinking about this and us and just you. About things we talked about the night we got back together, about how human and vulnerable you are, how fragile you are. I’m worried about what will happen when you die.”
When is true. Not if, but when, everyone dies eventually, she is human and is no different. “Like what will happen to you?”
She asked, “Like are you worried about not having a regular fuck buddy?” She said it in a tone that could be read as teasing by someone who didn’t know her so well. He could see in her eyes that she was uneasy, making jokes to cover it up.
“You’re much more to me than that and you know it.” He said seriously and she softened. She tightens her grip on his hand. “You are much more than just that to me too.” She said quietly before adding on. “Obviously.”
She was adorable. She was very open emotionally but still sometimes could find herself caught off guard, he really did drop this pretty suddenly. “What I mean is I’m worried about your soul.”
“My soul?” She asked, cock of her head and he said, “Yes. I’m worried with all of your involvement with me and your help with my work that when you do die-”
She cut him off. “You think I’m going to go to hell.”
Smart little thing. “Exactly.”
She leaned closer as she said, “I won’t lie it had crossed my mind but I tried not to really think about it.”
She knew that hell was a thing, they had talked about it, she had a lot of questions about the afterlife since he had experienced it and he was willing to share. “I have. But I of course don’t want that for you. And I think I have a work-around.”
“Okay I’m listening.”
That is when he came closer still. Gloved hand on her, blade on his index finger traced the line of her jaw, tilting her chin up as he says, “I could keep you here forever, always get to have you, if-” his gloved trailed down, wrapped around her throat, gripped and her breath caught.
“-I kill you.” She swallowed hard, staring up into his eyes, heart pounding in her chest. This shouldn’t get to her but it does.
Again fear and arousal are so closely linked in her mind all thanks to him. She used to think he might seriously do that, might actually kill her back then, take her life, make her another victim just like the rest as she falls to his blades. But obviously that didn’t happen, he deemed her worthy of keeping around, he liked her too much for that. Now he was offering it again, this time he seemed serious. It wasn’t just a fun, hot thing to amp up the play because fuck, she used to get off on the danger and the what if of it all so much, but it wasn’t that any longer.
He is moving her, pushing her back into the plus couch, leaning over her, his body covers hers so easily, his mouth by her ear as he tells her, “If I kill you, I can tie your soul to me, to this place and make you as immortal as I am. You can become eternal, we can be eternal.”
She never used to like ‘we’. She much prefers being a ‘me’ or an ‘I’ but just like most things when he is involved she finds herself thinking that ‘we’ wouldn’t be such a bad thing, in fact it could be great.
She can feel the edges of his blades biting into the sensitive flesh of her throat, “You can have your own space here, keep your independence, you’d still be your own being, still have control and you can avoid hell. You can cheat the devil himself and be with me, always.”
God he sure made it sound appealing didn’t he? She wasn’t too sure that he wasn’t the real evil, the real devil, but she had long since stopped caring about such things. Petty morality, right and wrong, all goes out the window when they are in his realm.
It was a massive thing he was suggesting.
They were both all too aware of the weight and the gravity of the situation.
It was a big ask but she was also aware what a big deal this was for him to even bring it up. He thought she was worthy of spending forever with, he wanted her for that long, he told her as such and didn’t mince words.
She was extremely touched. Nearly overcome with emotions, she felt happiness and fear and excitement and, and, and. Far too much to mention.
She finally told him, squirming under him, her voice strained as he held her throat, “I-I just need time to think it over but I am going to think about it really, really seriously, I promise.”
He is okay with that, he understands, he can be patient, he can wait for her. He knows he is asking a lot. He pulls back, an awful smile on his face as he says, “Of course Princess. No need to rush.”
He placed a kiss on her forehead and finally let her throat go. “Just remember, it will be so good for you, for us. So much better than the alternative, think of all the fun we'll have together.”
She hums softly, her hands curling in his sweater, keeping him close, curling up with him. “You can do as you please, have even more freedom then out there.”
He was doing a good job of selling it but it was so much so fast. She needed time, needed to think, and consider all of her options. She loved him, she didn’t want to burn for all eternity but to die for him? Was she willing? Was she able?
She is quiet and caught up in her own head, he speaks, breaking her away from her train of thought.
“Plus you can look however you want to. Age isn’t a factor.” She laughed, all of a sudden she was feeling light again, it was just so like him, so like both of them. Cracking jokes during such a heavy moment, she laughed harder, “Oh so that is what this is about! I’m getting too old for you Fred, huh?”
“No, fuck no. You only get better with age, I’m just saying-” She cut him off, “Yeah, yeah going for the hard sell I get it.”
He did mean it. She took great care of herself and seemed to only improve, maturity always suited her well. He could still sense her trepidation but that was normal and expected. He hoped she’d come around and would do anything to try and make that happen. Even if it meant not pushing as badly as he wanted to.
She woke up the next morning with her head full. She had too much she needed to think about. She lingers in bed, staring up at the ceiling, her mind heavy with all of the things he said, what he offered to her and their future together.
When she did get out of bed she made coffee, made breakfast and went out to her balcony. She sat at the table with two chairs, the second chair almost never got used since she lived alone, sitting amongst her garden she had grown herself. Sitting in the warm early summer sun, looking out at the view, smelling the flowers and taking in all of it.
She had the whole day off and had plenty of time to think. She got a favoured notebook after breakfast and she started to write, she could always think clearer and get her thoughts out easier when she wrote. She also pulled out her old writing. She poured over everything, their relationship, their shared life thus far and yet she still isn't fully sold. She smiles and laughs and cries as she re-reads and as she writes. She loves him so fucking much but does she love him enough for her to die for them to always be together?
Forever is a long time. It scares her. Commitment has always scared her. What if they get sick of each other but are stuck together? What if he dies again? What will become of her? What if it doesn’t work and she goes to hell anyway? Just on and on the questions don’t stop and they are enough to make her head spin.
She reminds herself of two big things to calm herself. The first is that she loves him and the second is she can take as long as she needs to give him an answer.
She thinks of his offer on and off for months. He never brings it up. When she has questions he answers truthfully, it is reassuring, soothing, he doesn’t push, she kind of expected him to at some point but he doesn’t. She is grateful.
It’s on her mind sometimes in the morning after seeing him, it’s on her mind sometimes before bed, or at work , or getting a drink with friends. She has experienced so much of life in her dreams, the recreations are so convincing they may as well be reality. She can maintain a similar life to the one she has but better but that is again only IF it works. She has to place a massive amount of trust in him on this front. It was one of the only things holding her back.
He told her she could visit friends and family in their dreams which was one of the other biggest roadblocks but if she can still see her loved ones then that worry was taken care of. She could avoid all the negatives of life if she wanted, all the positives, honestly she had been debating early retirement and honestly what would this be if not a form of early retirement? Just, not only from her job but life itself.
She also had to be honest, avoiding hell and eternal damnation was a really good motivator. Heaven with him or actual hell? The choice seems relatively simple when put in those terms but nothing, least of all death is ever that cut and dry.
Still it lingers on her mind for nearly a year.
It is another Friday night, an extended date. They had a small period of only being able to have brief visits, which is fine, it happens, it makes the time that they can have hours just to themselves all the sweeter. The date was about as perfect as it could get, he was perfect, for her anyway, she is overcome with feelings, clinging to him as he fucks her. Normally it's rough and kink filled but tonight is something deeper, more emotionally driven, more akin to making love than their usual debauchery filled nights together. Even if after all this time neither of them would call it that.
She has already cum a few times, legs over his hips, arms around his neck, he is covering her small frame, kissing and bites and words of praise and her name muttered into her throat. She is feeling so much. This is the best, she is her happiest and best self with him, always. Her manicured nails are digging into his back, she's getting near again, and it spills from her mouth suddenly, it just feels right, it’s time, she tells him, "Freddy-fuuuck! I-I wanna stay."
He falters but doesn't stop, he pulls back, looking down at her. Her hair a mess, stripped of everything but that necklace and the marks he gave her, looking so vulnerable, so wrecked. His pace is so slow as he has her, looking into her eyes, her hands on his forearms as she is looking back up at him as he asks, "What?"
"I want you. I want forever. God, yes, right there-" She sounded ruined, voice strained from all the pleasure she was feeling, a near sob tearing from her throat, almost babbling as she continued on, her feelings laid as bare for him as she was, "I-I need you. Need this! I love you. Will you have me? Make me yours?"
He couldn't be happier. He leans closer, his forehead almost to hers as he murmurs, "Amber. Sweetheart. You've always been mine, right?"
She moans with a nod, she has, since they started this she’s never been anyone else's. He pressed on, "But you mean it? You want that?"
He finally stills in her, she squirms and whines, he shhhs her, "Ah, ah, ah. I want to hear it, Amber. Tell me."
She bites her bottom lip, back arching, desperate for him to continue she tells him, "Yessss. M' yours, let's make it official.”
His glove grips her throat in an instant and she gasps out, “I jus- need some time, get my affairs in order-"
He understood, “Of course, whatever you need shortstack.”
He was more than happy to wait a little longer, she was worth it. He had her. She was all his. He fucked her, harder, deeper, more passion, she clings, she cries his name over and over and he returns the call as he makes her cum again.
It doesn't happen right away.
He doesn't push and he doesn't press the issue. He gives her all the time that she needs. It's a big thing the both of them were attempting to do and he is very understanding of that.
It's so hard to decide when you're ready. I mean when do you decide you are ready to die? When are you okay with it being your last day on Earth? What do you need to accomplish before that can happen?
She isn't 100% sure what needs to happen for it to happen for her to decide what day is her last.
She knows that there's specific things that she wants to do, people she wants to see, things that she wants to say, certain issues that need to be dealt with in regards to her apartment, her belongings, she needs to work on her will.
Freddy doesn't want her talking to Mark or Amanda about what she's considering doing, the night she brings up the idea of telling them he is very against it but she feels like she has to, she feels almost obligated. She probably owes it to them too, Freddy doesn’t want her too because he is honestly almost worried that those two will talk her out of it but he can’t stop her.
She goes out for dinner with them one night, they didn’t need to get a babysitter, their oldest was old enough to look after their youngest now. Amber picked the place and when they showed up she got up and greeted them both with a hug.
She drops it mid-way through dinner, the reason she invited them out beyond getting caught up. She tells them of their plan, that she is going to let him eventually take her life to ultimately save her from eternal damnation. “Why would you go to hell exactly? You are a good person, Amber.”
How could she tell her?
“I uh… Haven’t been totally honest with you both. See when Freddy came back all that time ago, I started to help him out with his ‘work’.”
“Amber!” Amanda was shocked and Mark was a little too, “What?! Listen, I had to do it, I couldn’t stand by and risk it happening again, I couldn’t go through losing him again!” This line of conversation goes on and Amber does her best to try and convince them that it was needed until Mark pivots the subject.
“So you are finally going all in and letting him have total fucking control, eh?”
Mark asked it before taking a mouthful of his scotch and Amber rolled her eyes, “Yeah Mark, that is exactly what is happening. Did you listen to me at all?”
“Oh I listened, and what it sounds like is you aren’t really thinking this through. You are letting him do whatever he fucking wants, you are a total doormat for him. “
“A doormat? You are calling ME a doormat?” She dropped her silverware and didn’t care about how loud she said it or the tone causing people to look over at them. “If the far too expensive and way too high heel fits.”
The fight continues, the volume increases, Amanda watches and tries to get them to calm down, to stop but they refuse. It ends with Amber telling Mark to, “-go to hell.”
“Oh but if I do I won’t see you down there!” He calls after her as she storms off.
Amanda sighs, head in her hands, taking a long pause before asking her husband, “Why the fuck did you do that shit?”
Mark resumes eating, immediately seeming unbothered and totally cool, she shrugs as he says, “I know her. I know her so fucking well and I know that she wants to do this but is coming up with a million excuses to not. She needs something or someone to push her to make this move. And if I know ONE thing about Amber it’s that she HATES being told what to do.”
Amanda looked across the table to him as she finished his thought. “By anyone but him…Reverse psychology. And you really think that is gonna work and she won’t see through it?”
Mark spoke up, “She took the bait with the fight, didn’t she?”
He had a point. “You son of a bitch… But I’m still not sold.”
He grinned at her and said confidently, “We will see who’s right I guess.”
She is emboldened from their fight. She is going to do this, she should do this, it’s right, she feels good about it. She is not a doormat, she is doing this for the right reasons, regardless of what Mark has to say about it.
Amber Cottell has always been a hard worker. But she needs to enjoy the little things too. She soaks up life. She goes to the botanical garden in her city, she tries restaurants she’s always wanted to but never found the time to. She has been practising pole dancing at home for exercise for years and she goes to an amature night and performs and goes home with bruises on her legs, a purse full of ones and a genuine sense of pride that she got so much attention doing it. She goes to the beach and to her hometown and visits her nieces and nephews and feels good.
She gets her will fixed, divides everything up and is just prepared.
When she finally asks him it's an average night. She goes to bed that night not thinking it is going to be THE night but it ends up that way. It just feels right. It just sort of happens.
They are together, in the playroom, she is curled up to him on the bed that is sunken into the floor when the feeling strikes. The night is winding down and she realizes she doesn’t want to leave. He wants to stay and so she says, “I think I’m ready.”
He is a little surprised, he looks down at her and asks, “Are you sure, Amber?”
“Yeah, I want it. I don’t want to go home.” She nodded and sat up, “So are we…Are we doing this how you usually do it?”
He laughs, “No, no. I’m not gonna chase you through the boiler room and all that shit unless you want it. Do you?”
She shakes her head, “I want you to do it however you want to.” She was giving up everything, trusting him the most possible, he was patient and the least she felt she could do was give this to him, let him take control. He knew what he was doing more when it came to this then she did.
He does it there on the bed. He tries not to make it last or linger too long but he makes sure she knows, “-it’s going to hurt. It has to, it’s part of it, needed for it to work.”
She stopped him, she sounds more confident than she looks as she tells him, “I can handle it.”
She is on her back, he is on top of her, the tension is thick, this is really happening, finally happening. She was giving herself over totally, she was going to be all his, forever. She was never going to wake up in her own bed again, she was going to die by his hand. If she had to die, which since she was human she did, every human does, she would rather die from him over anything else.
His glove rests on her throat and her pulse is going crazy. His gloved hand has been on her throat countless times, he had such control, she knew that any real danger was far removed, he would only hurt her if he wanted to. That was the whole purpose of it being on her now. She was trembling under him, breathing ragged, she was a mix of feeling, looking up into his eyes, her hand closed around his wrist and she told him, “Do it.”
His blades break the skin, he digs them in, hard and deep. Her eyes wide, the pain is sharp, the metal is so fucking cold, his grip is so hard. She sobs as he digs them in more roughly, she tries to beg for it to stop, it’s too much, fear has gripped her entire body, she is choking on her own blood, so much blood. Staining her skin, soaking into the mattress, her clothing she wore to bed, all of it getting everywhere.
He does it and he tries not to make it last or linger too long but it is going to hurt. He made sure that she was aware that it is going to hurt and she says she can handle it. She cries and she sobs as he digs the blades into her throat she bleeds and she squirms and attempts to beg to for it to stop but her vocal chords are already wrecked. There is too much blood, all that leaves her parted lips are shuddering breaths and wet sounds of pain and suffering.
He can't bring himself to enjoy this the way that he normally does. He doesn’t want to hurt her in this way even if a small sick part of himself is enjoying the fact that she wanted him to be the one to do it. The act itself is not good. It is hard for him to deal with but it is necessary.
It's needed and so he does it. Finally her movements stop. Her body slack, her eyes lifeless. She looks wrong like this but it doesn’t last long.
When she wakes up and he's there with her holding her, he speaks first, “How are you feeling?” She breathes deeply, she squirms in his arm, feels how herself moves and then opens her mouth and speaks with no issue, no pain, “I’m fine. I-I feel great actually.”
She is fine. She’s oddly calm and at peace. She doesn't feel dead. “Really? You feel alright?”
“Yeah I feel like…Myself but not? I feel connected to you but still like me. Like I am my own person. Is that true?” She asked and he told her it is, while she is attached to him and this place she is still definitely herself and a defined and separate being in this realm.
She can’t help how much she smiles, her arms wrap tighter around him, she is here, she is with him and doesn’t have to go anywhere and she feels really fucking happy.
Her family is shocked by her death. It looks like a murder with no sign of forced entry or struggle, Amber's body found in her bed, throat looking like it was clawed open and blood soaked ruined mattress below her.
Obviously no one is caught for this crime.
From here they start to settle into their new life and he's right she's still able to do whatever she wants to do, she has a defined space that looks just like her apartment attached to the playroom. He doesn’t go inside unless she invites him, she loves it. Her bedroom and clothing collection is all intact along with her balcony garden, it’s missing all those little annoying things that come from living in an apartment, it’s just right. She is so unbelievably happy she cannot believe she didn’t do this sooner.
He loves this.
He loves coming into the playroom post kill and seeing her sprawled on the big L couch reading a book. Seeing her head pop up as she greets him, asking him how it went, one cheek resting on her hand, that sweet little smile on her face, her other hand reaching out with a grabby gesture for him to come closer and be with her on the couch. He’d come sit next to her, play with her hair and tell her about the bad jokes he made and the fight they put up as she listened.
One day he comes back after being gone for a few hours and she isn’t around, he assumes she is in her place and was going to find his own thing to do but the door connecting the two was open and she called out to him, “Are you back?”
He called back, “Yeah I am.” She told him to, “-c’mon over.”
He finds her in her apartment. The lights are low, she is on her pole, she is not wearing much of anything. She is mid-turn when she sees him, “Hey! There you are! Was wondering where you got off to. Come watch, I nailed this new trick.”
And he wasn’t going to say no to the personal strip show she put on or to how it esclates to her riding him on the chair he had been sitting in right after. Her arms loosely around his neck, his hands on her hips as she rode, lost in the feeling of him.
He finds out she can’t bake. She attempted to make cookies and he laughed as she threw the tray into the sink, “I cannot believe it. Even in the dream realm I can’t bake worth a damn. I can fly, can snap my fingers and be waist fucking deep in the meditraian ocean, but I can’t make snickerdoodles.”
“You can’t bake?” And she has to sheepishly admit that when she was alive she hosted a dinner party once in her early 20s, she bought a cake from a bakery and someone just assumed she made it and she never corrected them. “I would go to bakery’s and pass off their work as mine, but I can’t even make fucking jello. I can cook great but baking is just…A no go.”
You might be wondering why she was anyway. Food is not needed in this realm but you can still taste it. She likes the habit, likes to cook and loves good food so even if it isn’t needed she still likes to. Turns out she just still can’t bake for some reason.
He sighs and snaps his own fingers, plate of unburned cookies now on the counter as he tells her, “You are so fucking cute, you know that?”
She picks up one of them and tells him, “Thank you.”
She doesn't stay inside all the time. She can go wherever. She travels. Walks around other people's dreams. Someone is always sleeping, there is always something to see or do. She feels so fuffilled.
When she is back there she loves having him in her apartment. Sometimes they sit on the balcony and that other chair isn't empty anymore. He never really cared for plants before but there is something to be said for how comforting and beautiful her garden is and how proud she is of it.
They don’t need to sleep but sometimes lounging in bed has very undeniable appeal. Usually it is the bed in the playroom but one night they are hanging out in her apartment and she takes his hand and says, “Wanna go to bed?”
And fuck it, why not? But then she leads him to her own bed. They curl up in the soft white sheets and he says, “You know, I’ve never been in your bed before.”
She thinks for a moment and realizes that in their decades of being together that he is right. He never has. This is a big deal. He always allowed her into his bed but he never got to invade hers until now. It helps comfort him in some way, that this all was the right choice, that she was happy, that she was getting closer to him, trusting him, their relationship still finding new ways to deepen after so long. He gets to fuck her in her own bed for the first time that night.
He is between her thighs, rough hands grip her hips as he eats her out until she is almost sobbing and begging him to stop but even then he doesn’t relent until she finally pushes him away and only then he has her.
The sex between them stays extremely frequent and adventurous. Still so much kink, they still visit some of his playthings on the side on occasion, they fuck in ‘public’ and do things that are so them and so impossible to achieve in reality.
She initiates it just as often as him. She will drop to her knees, put his hands in her hair and open his pants with no notice. Sometimes he will be laying back on the couch and she will come up in a short skirt and drop her panties and sit on his face and more and more it goes on. He still hurts her, because she asks for it, she still loves it, when he has in her face down ass up and drags his glove down her back until she shudders and bleeds.
In short she could not be happier than she is right now with him.
But as for everyone else.
She met up with Mark shortly after she died.
They are outside, sitting on her apartment balcony, watching the nightsky. She tells him she knows what he did and that she appreciate the push he gave her. He tells her, “I can see how happy you are. I could see how badly you wanted it back then too, it just…It makes sense for you, regular life and all that shit, marraige and kids, it was never for you. But this? This feels more right.”
She leans against his shoulder, “Thanks Mark.”
“You’re welcome, Amber.” It is quiet for a moment and he asks, “I am curious about one thing.”
“Yeah?” She asks and he asked, “Why do you love him? We had that fight forever ago, when he was gone, and you never went into detail, you never told me why him.”
Amber laughed as she pulled away from him. She remembers the last time he tried to ask something similar when she was twenty seven and so full of anger, but now was different. She felt ready and open, “I guess I never did tell you. So sure. I’ll share.”
She turns on her chair to look at him and he does the same to look at her.
“He…He was the first person to ever see me.” She started. “I’ve been looked at all my life. Watched all my life. Scrutinzed, crushed under expectations of being the perfect daughter, student, sister, athlete, church goer. Lots of people looked at me, past me, through me. But never saw me.”
She took a deep breath. “But from that very first meeting he saw me how I always wanted to be. And more than that he pushed me, he recognized when I needed that and he made me better, more confident, the best version of myself.”
She looked wistful, “There was this time with my sister Jules. She is three years younger than me like you know. She went to the same college as me so her freshman year was my senior year and one night, she saw me outside of a party. I was hanging with a friend. I was having a drink, sharing a smoke, laughing and talking, in my favorite mini-skirt and my sister stomped up to me and looked so disappointed. She started a fight.”
“Why?” He asked and she shrugged, “I think it is because she was pissed that I wasn’t who she thought I was. I lied when we were younger to fit in. I acted how I was expected to but she wasn’t in on that. She bought the lie that I was this perfect good girl, this rolemodel and seeing me like that ruined it I guess and she got mad.”
Amber went on to tell him how she would still play the good girl act whenever in her home town on holidays which didn’t help. This started the rift and fallout between them both. “I think she is happy but I don’t know. I think part of where all her anger comes from is not knowing there WAS a choice. I think she would still be married with kids but if she wasn’t so pressured by our community I think she would have waited and not rushed it all so much.”
She sighed, “So with Freddy it was never like that. There was no expectation. He’s always been into me for me, nothing more, nothing less and he helped make me feel good enough to live as my true self. Confident and unapologetic. That is why I love him.”
Mark doesn’t comment on the fact that he used to be one of those people. Who didn’t see the real her until she let him in on it. That way back when he saw her as the hot girl in the office who didn’t want him and that made him want her all the more. He likes her better like this, likes knowing the real her, appreciates being included and is honestly thankful that she is doing so much better. He’s thankful she has him. Instead he breaks the tension by saying, “And the sex is amazing.” She grins with a nod.
“Yeah and the sex is amazing of course, obviously, that helps a lot.”
She visits other friends. Checks in with them. Amanda asks if she wants to know about her funeral and Amber laughs, “No way. I know what happened. My parents made it all about them, my real friends weren’t invited or if they were they couldn’t talk about the real me and my sister sobbed about how I will never experience the joy of being a wife and mother.”
“Damn you REALLY know them.” Amber gave her a look that said, “Duh.”
“Oh! By the way! How did you end up dealing with your body?” She asked and Amber shrugged, “Uh…Cremation?”
“Are you fucking serious? You just had to get one last joke in! Everyone is trying to find your supposed murderer which they never will and you are beyond the grave doing comedy! I can't."
"Come on! It totally sounds just like me!"
Amber still helps Freddy with his work too. It isn't just for him but for both of their preservation.
She left all her money to her nieces and nephews. They can go off to college at 18 and be financially set and secure and not have to live under their mothers, Amber’s sister’s, thumb and can discover themselves in young adulthood just like Amber did.
She visits Julia’s oldest child, Allie, in a dream and tells her that she can be her own person, doesn’t need to listen to her mom and to please help her younger siblings when they need it. She checks in with her often, gives advice and loves to see how she develops and to hear about her program and the jobs she wants and the way she dyes her hair and seems so much brighter.
She watches Mark and Amanda’s oldest kid graduate college. She is watching it through Amanda’s eyes after the fact. There is this thing that Freddy showed her, like a theater of memories. When someone goes to bed their memory converts from short term to long term and before that switch can happen you can see the memory so clearly, almost like a movie.
Freddy ends up joining her.
“There you are. What are we watching?” She lets him put an arm around her and she says, “Amanda and Mark’s kid graduated college today. I’m checking it out.”
She loved that she never had to miss out on these big moments. She finds she has more time for them now and her loved once then she ever did when she was alive.
“You know I still think that they should have named him after me. They wouldn’t be together without me. What kinda name is Luther anyway?”
She dies laughing, “You fucking narcisst asshole.” She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, “I love you.”
He returned her affeceton with some of his own, “Love you too, shortstack.”
not sure if you've ever talked about this, but how do you think Fredward Kruger would react to a love interest / fuckbuddy / victim stealing his hat?
- 🔪
I wrote about this happening in The Man Of My Dreams, my big ass long fic where in one chapter Amber is being an annoying brat and steals his hat for a joke. Basically he uses that certain invisible something he has to hold her still and then proceeds to edge her dumb and send her on her way, making her promise not to cum until they see each other again, lest she incur an even bigger punishment. He makes her wait it out for two weeks.
I think it would go similarly based on context. If it was a light jokey kinda mood he would be easier on them, lighter, would laugh a long and try to get it back in a playful wrestling sort of way that would turn into more.
If it was some regular victim who he wasn't fucking or interested in he wouldn't be so kind about it and would use it as an excuse to be even more brutal because he sucks like that.
