#who knew corn could be so scary?

[nero-neptune]

EERIE, INDIANA 1.16 “The Loyal Order of Corn”

“The answer to your questions is simpler than you think and stranger than you imagine.”

#always sad when episodes that introduce lore don't get to expand on it. bc of the whole cancellation thing :/ #eerie indiana #eerieindianaedit #grandmastv #userrobin #uservintage #userbbelcher #scifiedit #cinemapix #throwbackblr #omri katz #justin shenkarow #john astin #jason marsden #myedit #who knew corn could be so scary?

[saigethearies]

saige’s terrortober presents…

guardian

when one of the actors at a haunted house attraction gets a little too handsy, megumi doesn’t hesitate to come to your aid.

megumi fushiguro x fem!reader

contents/warnings: non consensual groping (not from gumi), megumi and reader are in their early 20s, non-sorcerer!reader, violence, car sex, unprotected vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, praise, sir kink, protective!megumi, a little hint of feral!megumi

wc: 2.1k

18+ MINORS DNI

“come on, gumi, the next walk-through starts in five minutes!”

your boyfriend sighed as he let you pull him along towards the “haunted house” you had wanted to go to for the past three weeks. he didn’t really see the fun behind seeing a bunch of people pretend to be ghosts and demons when he fought (real) ones for a living, but he digressed. you didn’t share the same extraordinary profession that he did, so these types of attractions were still a spectacle of scary excitement and adrenaline for you. megumi couldn’t deprive you of the festive halloween experiences you sought out, nor would he ever pass up a chance to spend time with you.

thus, that is how he found himself being ushered into a hallway filled with plastic cobwebs, fake blood, and red lights everywhere.

your shoulders were tense, preparing for the inevitable jumpscare of an actor dressed to resemble a ghoul, zombie, or some other sort of terror. intertwining your fingers with the ravenette at your side, the two of you continued down the path.

he knew that the whole purpose of coming here was for you to get a little scare, but megumi still couldn’t resist the urge to squeeze your hand and keep you close. this was all make-believe, he knows better than anyone, but the nerves he could sense radiating off of you were still very much real.

you yelped when an actor jumped out at you from around the corner, special effects makeup covering his face that made it look as if he was covered in gnashes. jolting back, you felt megumi’s arm wrap around your waist, keeping you from taking a tumble towards the floor. the actor receded back into the darkness he had been hiding in, leaving you to try and calm your racing heart. megumi remained as blank faced as ever, not even phased in the slightest.

“oh my goodness,” you breathed, regaining your balance.

after a few more frights, the rest of the haunted house became easier to navigate because you knew what to expect. the jumpscares weren’t as alarming anymore, and you even found yourself starting to nervously laugh out of anticipation when you knew one was coming up. your giggles even had a smile coming onto your boyfriend’s face, his chest feeling warm at the sight of you having a good time.

running out of crimson colored hallways to walk down, the two of you were finally nearing the exit of the attraction. the double doors leading outside were left open, and you could see signage pointing towards a pumpkin patch and a corn maze. you gasped in delight.

“look, gumi, we can go pick our pumpkins out!”

you took off, dashing towards the exit in excitement. megumi sighed, figuring he’d catch up to you once the two of you were out of the haunted house.

unbeknownst to you both, there was one more actor hiding in the dark, a final fright for those who bravely made it to the end.

and unfortunately for you, this guy wasn’t only a creep because of his costume.

his breath heavy with the scent of alcohol, the actor smirked when he saw you trotting towards his hiding spot. megumi wasn’t in his line of sight yet, so he had no idea he was trailing behind.

‘a pretty little thing all alone in this place?’ the sleaze thought to himself. ‘must be my lucky day.’

you shrieked when the man jumped out at you, mentally cursing yourself for not staying on your guard until the very end. oh well, at least it's all just pretend-

you felt your body freeze when a pair of gloved hands attached themselves to your chest.

“damn, aren’t you fine,” disgustingly warm breath fanned against your ear, and you felt a true scream start to tear its way up your throat only to die on your tongue when the body pressed against your back was ripped away from you.

you watched in shock as megumi shoved your assailant up against the wall, sending his fist into his face once, then twice, then three times. he kept going.

“gumi!” you yelled, trying to pull your boyfriend out of his rage-filled trance. the guy had his hands up in surrender, pleads coming from behind his mask. the shikigami summoner, however, wasn’t letting up.

you finally ran up to him, grabbing onto his elbow before he can deliver another punch. “MEGUMI! i think he got the lesson.”

dark blue eyes blinked before turning to look down at you, a frown on your face. he took note of the tremors in your grip on his arm. megumi mentally kicked himself for not checking on you first. he always sought to improve his character, but whenever he saw your safety threatened he found himself reverting back to the violence that plagued his younger years.

“love,” he began slowly, concern etched into every corner of his face.

you sniffled. “can we just get out of here?”

the sorcerer let the creep fall to the ground, crumbling up like the trash he was. placing a gentle hand on the small of your back, your boyfriend led you away from the haunted house and towards the car.

he thought about telling the site’s management, but you were clearly still shaken, so he decided for your sake he’d get you into the comfort of his audi as soon as possible. he would still report the incident later, however. that man needed to face formal consequence. beating him wasn’t enough to satisfy megumi, who swore to himself every night you fell asleep in his arms and every morning you woke up still wrapped in them that he would keep you safe from anything.

he couldn’t help but feel like he failed at that tonight.

opening the passenger door for you, megumi helped you into your seat before closing you in and getting into the car himself. he immediately turned to you.

“are you alright?”

such a stupid question to ask. of course you weren’t, the misty hue of your eyes confirmed so. he couldn't think of the right words to say in this situation, but when those always failed him, megumi resorted to the method he could always depend on to better express himself: actions.

those always spoke louder, anyways.

he reached a hand out, placing it on your thigh before giving a comforting squeeze. he knew there was a chance you may not want to be touched right now, but if you had a problem with his affections he knew you’d make it known.

a sense of accomplishment washed over him when you placed your hand on top of his. “thank you, gumi.”

“you don’t need to thank me. it’s my responsibility to protect you.”

he almost made a comment about how he should have done a better job, but he held his tongue. right now it was about you. throwing himself a pity party would do nothing to lift your spirits.

“well, i still want to say thank you,” you said, a small smile coming onto your face as you shifted towards him. “my knight in shining armor deserves some gratitude.”

megumi hummed in acceptance, the two of you sitting in silence for a minute before he spoke again.

“i hope i broke his fucking nose.”

that earned a laugh from you, catching him by surprise. “all this time i thought gojo was making up all those stories about you in middle school, but i guess i was wrong.”

“whatever he told you, please forget.”

“you know, i dont think i want to,” you said with a smirk.

now that the distress of the situation had ebbed away some, your mind was able to ponder more on your boyfriend going full fight club on the guy. seeing him get aggressive like that was honestly…very sexy. you couldn’t really appreciate in the moment, but now reminiscing on the wild semblance in his eyes and the sheer force behind his hits had your thighs starting to press together.

megumi noticed the gesture when he felt his fingers become squished between your thighs. he raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“do you want something from me?” he asked, the heat of your skin paired with the adrenaline from earlier sending his brain into overdrive.

you pouted your lip out at him. “want you to touch me, ‘gumi.”

“are you sure?”

“yes, sir. need you to make me feel better, please.”

the title made his cock twitch in his pants. the hand that had been resting on your thigh slowly began to glide up your skin, dipping under the hem of your skirt and gingerly tracing the edge of the lace covering your heat.

he saw you start to squirm in your seat, chest puffing out at the effect he had on your body. finally slipping a finger into your panties, his index drew slow circles around your clit.

your head tipped back against the seat, a breathy whine leaving you. the appendage doting on your bud then drifted down into your cunt, his middle finger joining as well. he pumped them at a steady fast, beginning to pick up speed once they started to reach deeper.

“fuck, that feels so good, sir!”

“yeah? ‘m glad, love.”

he could feel your pussy start to soak his fingers, the mess between your legs growing wetter by the second. it would probably get on the seat, but he could worry about that later. right now his sweet girl needed him.

you felt the coil in your gut begin to tighten, megumi’s fingers continuing to fuck you open. he knew how to use them so well, years of summoning his shikigami paying off with the most dexterous fingers you’ve ever had the pleasure of welcoming into your cunt.

thus, imagine your disappointment when you felt his hand detach from your heat.

before you could protest, you felt his arousal-coated fingers prod at your lower lip.

“clean them,” he gently commanded.

you did as you were told, taking the appendages into your mouth as your tongue swept up your own glaze. you released them with a pop.

“such a good girl.”

you let out a small squeak of surprise as you felt megumi easily lift you from your seat and bring you into his lap, chests pressed together.

“good girls deserve to cum on a cock, yeah?”

you nodded quickly, excitement rattling you at the thought of getting filled up.

megumi slid his pants down below his hips, freeing his aching dick from his boxers before pushing your thong to the side.

“sit on it, love.”

lowering yourself onto his cock, you moaned as you felt the familiar stretch. he always stuffed you so perfectly, the heat in your stomach already starting to pool at the sensation.

moving your head to rest in the crook of his neck, megumi placed both of his hands on your hips. he began to move you up and down on his lap as if you were weightless, jackhammering up into your pussy whenever he brought you back down. you practically screamed when you felt how deep he was going.

your boyfriend was panting. god, you always felt so perfect around him. he was never sure what he thought about the idea of fate or soulmates, but everytime you welcomed him into your cunt, he could have sworn you were made for each other.

his lovesick thoughts led his thrusts to become harder, megumi’s sole focus being to ensure you could feel how much you meant to him through every grip of his fingers, every breath from his lips, every plunge of your pelvises.

“i love you,” he whispered into your ear, eyes practically blown feral. “damn, i love you so much. forever and always. gonna keep you safe, gonna keep you happy- fuck.”

you mewled at all the pussydrunk confessions tumbling out of him. “love you, too, gumi! love you, love you- ah!”

his tip hitting that golden spot now, your legs starting to shake around his.

“if i ever see someone touch you again, i’m putting them six feet fucking under.”

“nng, sir!”

“you’re mine.”

the dam finally broke, your cunt clamping down on his dick as your orgasm tore through you as if it were a monsoon. the sensation of you creaming around him sent your boyfriend over the edge next, megumi filling you up as you continued to be flooded with pleasure.

the two of you sat there in content quiet, megumi running his hand up your back to try and soothe you as you both recovered. you lifted your head up, gazing at him with droopy eyes.

“did you mean it?”

his brow furrowed. “mean what?”

“putting someone six feet under. would you actually do it?”

he wrapped you in an embrace, bringing your tired body to rest against his.

“without hesitation.”

———

saige’s terrortober masterlist

#megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi smut #megumi fushiguro smut #fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro #megumi x you #megumi fushiguro x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Devil's night [S. R.]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 4k

summary: Spencer is excited about his Halloween plans and you join him.

Directly based on episode 6x06, because I felt so bad about how the team behaves with Spencer that I needed to do something

“I see someone’s feeling spooky today,” Morgan smiled, looking you up and down.

You were wearing a cardigan knitted with various prints related to the time of year; pumpkins, ghosts, black cats, and candy corn, over a bright purple skirt and tall boots. Normally you would dress more formally due to the implied dress code the FBI operated under, but it was the weekend and Halloween was around the corner, so you could skip a suit day to wear one of those many scary-related items you had. After all, Halloween was your favorite holiday of the year. It was fun for everyone when you were a child, but as you grew up, your love for said celebration became a little weirder for others, so when you became an adult, you didn't think anyone shared such excitement about the date. Well, that is until you met Spencer Reid.

“It became a little more commercialized in the 1950s with trick-or-treating, and today it rivals only Christmas in terms of popularity” you heard him say, as he walked in with an already quite annoyed Emily Prentiss.

You knew that sometimes Spencer talked too much, but you hated that the rest of your coworkers got upset like that when he was talking about something that he was passionate about. Now the subject was, clearly, the next date.

"All I asked was what he was doing this weekend" she complained to Rossi. Spencer ignored her and continued with his cathedra as he settled into the empty space next to you.

“I'm toying with the notion of either going to the Edgar Allan Poe Shadow Puppet theater or the re-enactment of the XIX century Phantasmagoria,” he said and your heart did a little skip. You and Reid had argued on a few occasions, outside of work, about Poe’s works and although you didn't know what the second thing he had mentioned was, it sounded very interesting.

“What is a Phantasmagoria?” you asked nicely and when your partner noticed your presence he smiled widely, as if he was just noticing you in the room. The others all pouted in anticipation of the explanation to come and you hoped Spencer hadn't noticed.

“Phantasmagorias are these amazing pre-cinema projected ghost shows invented in France, where the showman attempted to spook the audience using science magic” he explained to you, while he took a seat and waved his hands from side to side. You were completely unaware of the term so you slightly parted your lips in astonishment.

"Sounds interesting"

"I have an extra ticket, do you want to come with me?" he asked you, almost immediately, with the biggest smile of all. Honestly, the invitation took you by surprise, especially who was asking, and Spencer seemed to see it on your face. “I mean, if you don't have plans this weekend. You can say no if you want."

“I'd really love to,” you exclaimed, so he wouldn't get the wrong idea, and watched his eyes sparkle with joy as he nodded.

The others wanted to make fun of it a bit, but Garcia didn't give them time to when she handed you the case files. When Hotch told you that you were going to fly to Detroit, your partner complained loudly and his gaze inevitably went to you, since you were supposed to have made plans together literally three minutes ago, but knowing that the unsub only attacked during these three days of the year. You had no choice but to accept your fate. You have never gone from feeling completely happy to being so disappointed in such a short time.

"I guess you better forget what I just told you," Reid sighed, as you left the conference room.

"Maybe we'll make it on time, when is the show?"

"This Sunday. The puppet theater is at 9:00 pm, the last Phantasmagoria show is at 11:00 pm. None are sold out yet"

"If we get back in time enough, I'll accompany you both, what do you say?" you muttered, trying to be as positive as possible, as you took your friend's arm with both hands and gave it a friendly squeeze. Spencer was taller than you, but thanks to the boots you were wearing and the extra inches they gave you, your eyes were almost at the level of his “Don't be discouraged.”

"I like your clothes today," he suddenly murmured. Sometimes he would give you those kinds of sweet compliments, perhaps as thanks for the kindness with which you always treated him, and you would almost always blush "The drawings are beautiful. Do you know why pumpkins became so representative?"

"Jack-o'-lantern," you replied, rather proud of yourself for knowing the answer.

"But did you know that in the original story it wasn't a pumpkin but a turnip?" he said and you were silent. But he didn't make fun of you for it, instead he saw a new opportunity to impress you "Yeah, you see, in the original legend Stingy Jack..."

The rest of the team, who was in front of you, shared knowing looks as if they were pitying you for having activated the doctor's rambling mode, but the truth was that you were fascinated with every word that came out of his mouth. Sometimes you couldn't believe how there was someone as intelligent in the world as your cute companion and as he spoke you prayed, perhaps with all your might, that you could catch the unsub in time to be able to fulfill the plans in the ones he had included for the weekend.

Almost as if by divine handiwork, the case was solved just in time for the plane to land and you two to rush home to get dressed for the theater. Hotch was even sympathetic to you and told you that the paperwork could wait for Monday just because he had heard of your plans, which you were immensely grateful for.

Spencer was happy that you agreed to go out with him, especially since the idea of asking you out was completely impulsive. It was true that he had an extra ticket but he never thought of having the courage to ask you to accompany him, much less did he think that you would be interested in it, since he was regularly ignored by his colleagues at work. It was something he had never discussed with anyone, only his beloved and gone Elle, but it haunted him almost every day.

Luckily for him, Spencer had prepared the wardrobe he wanted to wear in advance, and all he had to do was take a warm shower, shave, and put on some cream and cologne to get ready. In addition to, of course, styling his short hair as best he could.

He felt particularly concerned by his appearance that night and he pondered whether you would think he looked silly wearing a 19th century French suit. He had bought it last month and it was stored with his costume collection, which no one on the team knew about yet and he didn't intend for that to change.

He had offered to pick you up and when he got to your building, he felt strangely nervous. The doorman was a kind older man that he had seen a couple of times, so when he said that he was looking for you, the man called you on the phone to let you know.

They were silent for a few moments and he began to rock on his heels to kill some time.

“Will you take her trick-or-treating?” the doorman, Tony, joked. Spencer didn't take it the wrong way, instead he laughed it off.

"It's not the plan, but if someone takes pity on us and gives us some I won't complain" he replied and now it was the employee's turn to laugh.

"I've seen you before, are you her boyfriend?"

“Coworkers,” Spencer clarified, with a smile.

"Ah, so you're also a policeman?" although it wasn't the proper term, Spencer didn't know if you had hidden your real job for personal reasons, so he held back from explaining to the man that you were actually a profiler.

"Yes, something like that"

Tony wanted to ask more questions, but the sound of the elevator caught the attention of both men and revealed your figure.

"No fucking way," you breathed, looking your friend up and down and if he hadn't gone dumbfounded, he probably would have said the same thing "Look at you!"

"Where did you get that?" he asked in amazement. Although Spencer had thought that you would show up in a costume, he hadn't expected to see you like this. 

"You don’t like it?"

"No, I love it" he hastened to say, when he heard the insecurity in your voice "It's just… I didn't expect to see you as a 19th-century French lady"

You were wearing a beautiful black dress with lace details that obviously alluded to the fashion of the time, black satin gloves, plus a discreet hat on your well-groomed hair and boots that Reid had seen before, but they made a great combination with the outfit. The man's surprise was because he had invited you with such short notice and yet you had gotten the perfect costume and not only that, but one that conveniently matched his.

“And I didn't expect to see you as a French gentleman either” you laughed, as you reached out to wrap him in a hug "I guess it was pure fate"

“Or the fact that we are going to see a recreation of a 19th-century show. Our brains thought the same thing.”

“It doesn't sound so charming when you say it like that" you complained amused and he realized it was true "Shall we go? I don’t want to be late"

Spencer nodded and immediately offered you his arm to hold onto as you walked, a gesture that made you believe you were really entering a time tunnel.

“Enjoy your night”

"Thanks, Tony! Don't scare too many kids and don't eat too much candy,” you waved, blowing him a kiss as you followed Spencer out the door.

He guided you to his car and opened the passenger door for you and then he got in himself to start the engine and get going.

"I really can't believe that we got a couple's costume by pure coincidence"

“Couple costume?”

“Yes, they are those costumes of the same theme that you use with a couple. You know, like the people who dress up as Fred and Daphne or Morticia and Gomez”

Spencer didn't know the last couple, but he did have a vague recollection that the first ones mentioned were from Scooby Doo due to the cartoons he came from as a child.

"Oh" he sighed "Yes, get it”

“Honestly this was a last-minute thing. My downstairs neighbor studies theater and we are good friends, so I asked her if she had anything in her curiosities bag that could help me and she pulled out this dress. It was enough to adjust it a little" you told him, putting both hands on the neck of your dress and smiling from ear to ear "I couldn't believe it, it was really a stroke of luck”

"It looks so pretty on you," he said suddenly, looking away from the road just for a moment to check that you had heard him. "I don't think I told you when I saw you, but that's what I thought."

"Thank you then," you smiled, feeling your cheeks warm a little.

Spencer started talking to you about the creation of puppet theaters and, of course, the Poe stories you were going to witness, with you interrupting him only to point out some decoration along the way that you thought was cute. On Halloween you almost always preferred to stay at home to watch horror movies or go down to the hall to distribute candy to the youngest children, with very discreet costumes to avoid the evil looks of adults. But now you were excited to be doing this with Spencer, who was maybe the only person you knew who wouldn't make fun of you under any circumstances. Your relationship was based on a certain complicity, perhaps more than you had with any member of your unit.

Arriving at the site, he reopened your door and offered you his hand to help you down, which you took without complaining. Once you were outside, he repeated the gesture from when he picked you up from your building and in this way you walked to the entrance, where a woman disguised as who you assumed was Berenice (a Poe character) sold you a couple of tickets.

It was a lovely show and when you weren't looking at the puppets you took the time to admire your companion, whose eyes revealed the emotion of a child. You never thought the doctor was fond of a thing like this and now that you had discovered it you found it quite adorable. As you left you asked him if he was a Muppets fan by any chance and, to your surprise, he was. Spencer even told you that he had a couple of Kermit the Frog items that his mom bought him when he was little, but he also told you not to tell anyone or he'd be embarrassed and you pinky promised him.

You still had an hour between the two shows so you decided to go to a nearby park where there were lots of food stalls: candy apples, popcorn, candy, lemonade, and you even got to one where a Hispanic woman offered you pieces of candied pumpkin. You had to take off your gloves (which he kept carefully in his jacket) when you bought a few pieces of this last one for the two of you and when you tried it you agreed that it was delicious. The woman told you that in Mexico, her country of origin, she always served them to her children with a glass of milk.

Spencer spared no expense just to fulfill all your cravings, even though you refused, so when you got in the car to go to the Phantasmagoria your stomach was pretty full. The place where it would take place was a gray tent in the open air, with a dais in front and several wooden benches arranged so that enough people could fit in. As you had arrived with some time, you took a seat on a bench in the second row and waited patiently for the show to start.

Suddenly all the lights around you went out, leaving only the ones pointing to the front of the stage, and a presenter dressed as a magician appeared.

“For many centuries, wandering spirits have inhabited the world unseen by the human eye, always confined to the world of shadows…” his voice was mesmerizing and kept you on the edge of your seat, watching him carefully “but for a certain time of the year, their magic grows and they are able to cross the barrier that separates us…”

The entire tent was filled with smoke and the audience, including you, looked around trying to figure out what would happen. The presenter continued giving his gloomy monologue and, although you didn’t imagine how, you even felt that the temperature decreased a little with each word he said. Suddenly even the lights that were pointed at him began to dim and by the time he finished explaining to you the whole place was in complete darkness.

There was silence for a moment to build tension and then there was an explosion that made you jump in place. To tell you the truth, you didn't expect much from the show, you thought that being a recreation it would have many shortcomings, but when the first figure appeared on the roof your heart skipped a beat.

You weren't a scared person under normal circumstances and your resistance to the horrifying images you saw at work on a daily basis shows this, but this time perhaps all the environmental components of that night were what made you feel that way. A loud laugh resounded and then another pair of specters appeared, this time flying at the height of the audience and even passing through some of you.

Spencer's reaction was nothing like the rest. Despite his fear of the dark he was totally fascinated by all the images, his mind already working to decipher the magic trick that was being performed. What finally got his breath caught was the feel of your hand searching his. He was still shielding your gloves so he could feel the cool temperature of your fingers, as opposed to how warm he was in comparison. Even knowing that doing that was a reflex act due to fear, he stopped paying attention to the show to look at your hand on top of his, with that noticeable difference in size.

Just as you had admired him during the puppet show, he took the time to observe your expressions now. Your face lit up from time to time by the illusions around you and every time you startled you squeezed his hand harder, in addition to adjusting your body against his as if you were looking for some kind of protection. Spencer had gone out with friends many times and of course with the rest of his female colleagues at work, however none of them had behaved like you were doing. He wasn’t bothered by your behavior, but rather intrigued, since you seemed quite comfortable taking refuge in him to feel safe. Although he knew how to identify qualities in people, he sometimes had a hard time crossing the line of identifying them to really admire them. When he thought of JJ, he thought of a charismatic woman. When he thought of Emily, he thought of intelligence. And when he thought of Penelope, he always saw joy and optimism. But when he thought of you, there were too many qualities to focus on just one: he thought of kindness, calmness, creativity, wit, beauty, empathy... what a big heart you had and how at the end of the day you were perhaps the only one who could make him smile. When he invited you to join him, he did it because he knew you had the same feeling towards scary things, but now that you were there, looking so pretty and holding his hand tightly, he thought maybe there was something else going on between you. You were the closest thing he had to a best friend, though he had never said so verbally, and that night he wanted to be nowhere else but by your side.

Only when the lights came back on did he realize that the spectacle had been forgotten to him, since the whole time he had been looking at you.

“That was all for today, my friends. Thank you for these wonderful performances and remember to recommend us to your friends the next time we're in town. Have a spooky night, all of you."

“I can't believe it, did you see all that? It was just awesome! I didn't think it was going to be this good” you said, completely excited, as you turned in his direction. Apparently you weren't even aware that your hands were clasped until he got up from the seat and helped you imitate him with that grip. Though you thought of apologizing for that, you didn't, fearing to embarrass yourself further.

“It was amazing, even for me it was hard to figure out the trick”

“Why do you want to figure it out? admit it's only magic, doctor. Sometimes life is” you laughed, grabbing his arm for the third time like a happy wife would her husband.

You are something magical, he thought, with the words on the tip of his tongue, but not daring to say them to you. 

Although the night was late, the movement in the streets was still the same and Spencer considered asking if you wanted to go somewhere else, but the yawn that escaped you made him think that the best thing for both of us would be to go home to rest. After all, the case had exhausted you.

"Back to your house, right?" he asked, just to be sure and you nodded with a smile.

The road wasn’t long, you only had to take care of the naughty at night so as not to receive any damage, so when you least expected it, you were already in front of your building. Although you intended to say goodbye, Spencer told you that he would accompany you to the door of your apartment just to make sure that you arrived completely safely, because he knew better than anyone how much could happen to a woman alone, even if it was such a short journey, and he didn't want to risk you. Tony was still awake and greeted you nicely as you walked in, so you could then get on the elevator and press the necessary button.

“I seriously have no words to thank you for today, Spencer. Except for that one time I ended up in the hospital for eating so much candy, this has been my best Halloween ever,” you admitted with a laugh, as you leaned in for a big hug.

"Thank you for accompanying me. I'm really glad you had fun, because I had a great time too”

There was a dead space between you, in which you just looked at each other with a smile. It wasn't an exaggeration to say that the night had been wonderful and maybe it was just that you two were trying to drag it out as long as possible.

“Spencer”

"Yeah?"

"Before you go, can I ask you something?"

"Whatever" he responded immediately. He got a little nervous thinking that he wouldn't be able to satisfy your curiosity by ignoring the topic you were going to ask him about and hoped that wasn't the case.

You waited another second before speaking.

"How frowned upon do you think it was for 1800s society for a woman to steal a kiss from her companion?"

Spencer's eyes danced a little in his sockets and you thought he was processing your request in disguise, until he looked at you again and spoke with complete assurance:

“Very frowned upon, surely. At that time, it was usual for men to court women, who were very repressed from making their own decisions or living their sexuality as they pleased. A woman who kissed a man was considered indecent."

You wanted to correct him, tease him or, as a last resort, simply pull him by his shirt and plant the kiss you had wanted to give him all the way. But you didn't do any of that, you just laughed softly and enjoyed his smirk for telling you the right answer.

“I was afraid of that. It's good to know” said this, you carefully approached him and placed a small kiss on his cheek, seeing him slightly surprised by the act “See you tomorrow at work. Call me when you get home”

"I will do that. Rest and see you later"

"Bye”

Just as he said, he called you a few minutes later to announce that he had arrived at his destination so you could sleep peacefully.

Spencer didn't realize that you had explicitly asked for a kiss until Morgan told him and while his friend laughed, he felt like the luckiest guy of all and, at the same time, the dumbest.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #JJ #penelope garcía #david rossi #emily prentiss #spencer reid x you #criminal minds 6x06 #devil's night #devil's night criminal minds #spencer reid halloween #spencer reid fluff

[xjulixred45x]

I hope I am not too late to make a request. Can I please get a Yandere Toji Drabble where he is obsessed with a Sorcerer darling and their CT is based on divination so they are one step ahead of Toji whoever one day they end up corning their darling and it leads to a scary game of hide and seek

YEAH BABY!! Finnally some content for this man! I was wondering when Someone was going to Request him(finnally something that is NOT SATOSUGU THANK GOD!)

Yandere Toji Fushiguro x Reader: a Step ahead.

(reader) knew from the beginning that something was wrong.

They noticed very quickly when He began to follow them, thanks to their ritual technique they felt safe, because they would always be one step ahead of any weirdo who tried something with them. They didn't consider it something important, just a strange day.

Even when he came back.

Which was kind of strange, it's not like it wasn't possible, but normally these types of people gave up quickly, right? Why was he still behind them?

No, it doesn't matter, they could handle it, they always have been able to.

And they did it, they got rid of the stranger for the second time, already calm that he would probably not see them again, he was always one step ahead of things, they would make sure of it.

They even took the trouble to try to remember if they had seen him at any other time, his intimidating presence was familiar to them, his appearance... but they really didn't think it was that important. They could handle it.

It was like that for a while, the encounters with this person became simply a bad moment or in any case a horrible coincidence that had happened. They were calm knowing that they could avoid him and his bad intentions. It became simply an anecdote of a bad time. They could continue with their normal lives.

But then why did they feel so uneasy?

It didn't matter where they went, what time or who they went with, there would always be that feeling that something could be happening, that something was happening, but there was nothing nearby to indicate otherwise, and with their ritual technique this tipi of things should be a piece of cake.

Thanks to this, (reader) they began to try to spend as little time alone, that way they felt that this feeling was not so difficult to handle. It worked for a while.they would find a way to get rid of this problem.

but then they started to feel it again...he was stalking them...the same guy...again.

Their ritual technique, divination, had saved their live many times, sometimes giving subtle clues and other times concrete information, but with this man, Toji Fushiguro, they didn't understand why it didn't work the same way. It was as if there was some kind of interference with their ritual.

They finally realized where they had seen Toji from. in the files of the high command...one of the deadliest Sorcerer alive...

the sorcerer-killer was after them.

He blended into the background, disappeared and appeared, they couldn't feel his cursed energy. How did he do it? How did he avoid his ritual technique twice?

It all made sense when they met him in person...

They had been using their ritual technique constantly to avoid Touji as much as possible. but it had left them tired and without desire. Fortunately it seemed that he had temporarily withdrawn from his "position" so they were calm.

To be honest, they were kind of hoping. Could it be that Toji finally stopped following them? Did he finally leave them alone?

And then, in less than a second, that Hope was shattered.

-"You are very lucky to be so adorable"-

They were breathing hard trying to calm down and remain silent, now hiding from Toji. Everything went so fast...

-"If any other target was giving me the problems and fights that you give, I would have already killed them"-

They tried to ignore his words and move slowly towards another hiding place, but they couldn't help but tremble after hearing the last sentence. which made their movements faster and clumsier. They feel so scared and so tired...

-" But don't ya worry, You're reciving the Special treating, i would't put a hand over You.."-

They continued to crawl in their footsteps, increasingly tired and weaker from using their ritual technique, there had to be a way out of that, THERE HAD TO BE A WAY...

-"..well, unless you're liking all this sweetheart"-

Finally they saw what seemed like their last hope, now that they had no cursed energy left, they had to get to where the people were.

Move, ignore it, move...

-"because, personally--"-

(reader) came out of his hiding place and with the little strength he had left they went towards the public area, without stopping, without looking towards where Touji's voice was coming from, they just ran.

They ran, they turned the corner, they kept running, they crossed the streets, they ignored all the pros of running away from this man-sorcerer--monster--whatever he was.

and again it was there, the feeling of hope when they were less than a block from the public area, maybe they didn't get rid of it this time, but at least they could try again, they could run away--

With a single blow with something hard, (reader) collapsed, being caught in the air by a strong arm...

They began to shake compulsively, breathe heavily, and felt fear take over them as they looked up to see him.

-"I always enjoy a good game of hunting from time to time."-

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

Thanks for the Request ❤️

I didn't really LOVE IT, but i like it, it was fun to write for Toji, if you are going to order from JJK, ask him more and not SatoSugu please (those two already have me rotten)

#headcanons #neutral reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu no kaisen #yandere #yandere jjk #yandere toji #yandere toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji x reader #tw yandere #tw stalking

[sarahwroteathing]

It’s the Great Pumpkin, Steve Rogers!

[Art Teacher!Steve Rogers x Single Mom!Reader]

Word Count: 3417

Warnings: single mom reader, chaotic bestie Bucky Barnes

Summary: While painting faces at the local harvest festival, Steve sees you and Charlie outside of school for the first time.

A/N: I’m baaaaaaack! Did ya miss me?

Here’s the previous three installments in the Glitterverse, in case you missed them or need a refresh!

Glitter  Cool Kid Table  Silver Star

Steve was in the very serious process of adding purple stripes to a charmingly cartoonish spider he’d painted on a little boy’s cheek when the sound of a bright, happy laugh caught his attention. There was nothing too unusual about that, honestly. He liked seeing people happy, whether he knew them or not, and there had been no shortage of happiness at the Harvest Festival so far. 

The apple bobbing tent was a pretty reliable source of laughter of the triumphant, self-deprecating, and “No, I swear, I’m not laughing at you” varieties.

The pumpkin carving tables were another happiness hotspot as people giggled over each other’s designs and gave the nervous laughs of people utterly unsure of the sharp implements they were holding. 

 This particular laugh came from the exit of the corn maze, and Steve did his very best to ignore the little flutter in his chest when he recognized you, cozy and carefree in an oversized sweater and scarf, spinning a giggling Charlie in increasingly wobbly circles until you both fell onto a nearby hay bale.

“We did it!” he heard you shout, raising both arms above your head.

Charlie’s voice was too soft to catch at this distance, but whatever she said made you laugh again and tug her against your side.

“Excuse me? Are you done?” 

Steve’s eyes snapped forward again, and he fought a flush of embarrassment as he smiled at the boy who was now starting to squirm restlessly on his stool.

“Sorry, almost,” he said. “One second.”

Steve added one last stripe before setting down his paintbrush and reaching for the small mirror tucked between the paint bottles and paper cups. He held it up with a playful flourish that earned him a giggle.

“What do you think?”

The boy inspected his cheek closely, squinting his eyes for a moment before giving a decisive nod.

“It’s good.”

Steve gave the boy a parting smile as he raced back to his grandfather, who was waiting near the donation table and chatting with Bucky. 

The same Bucky Barnes, best friend and bane of his existence, who was now cheerfully waving them off and approaching Steve with such a casual smile that it was immediately suspicious. 

“That last one was barely even a masterpiece, Steve. Are you okay? Coming down with something?”

“Still better than you could do,” he said pointedly, rearranging the paint bottles and rinsing off the brushes he’d used. 

“Rude. I knew something was going on with you,” Bucky said, plopping himself down on a stool and fixing Steve with an expectant look. 

“No, there's not. Now move unless you want me to paint your face.”

“Are you sure you could focus for long enough to paint my face?”

Steve narrowed his eyes. 

“What are you talking about?”

Bucky only smiled.

“I have this sixth sense that tells me when scary things are happening. Like when all the birds go quiet. Or the clouds look freaky. Or Steve Rogers stares longingly at a woman.”

“What are you- I wasn’t-”

“You. Staring. Beautiful woman. I saw it.” 

And Steve knew full well he was betraying himself by glancing towards you again, but it was an impulse he didn’t have time to suppress. You were at a stall this time, talking cheerfully with a baker, a basket hanging from the crook of your arm and Charlie’s hand in yours.

“I’m not… staring. I just…”

You were laughing again, and the baker, a rosy cheeked older woman, handed a loaf of bread over the table to you with a fond smile. 

“Wait, do you know her?” Bucky demanded, recapturing Steve’s attention when he smacked him on the arm. 

“I… yeah.” 

Now well into October, Steve not only saw you every weekday, he also occasionally texted you on weekends. It was never much, only instigated when one of you happened across something that reminded you of the other person. A picture of the mug of apple cider that Bucky had unceremoniously dumped way too much edible glitter in. A picture of your kitchen table covered in old newspapers to protect it from your and Charlie’s watercolor experiments. It was nothing, really. But it made him happy.

“Her?” Bucky repeated, brows raising as he turned to look over his shoulder at you.

“Ye- Please, stop pointing. Yes.”

“Fluffy sweater, cute kid? Her?”

“Bucky.”

“Looking like she just stepped out of a fairytale with a basket of apples, bread, and what I assume is jars of either honey or jam or both?”

“Why are you freaking out?” Steve sighed.

“Because you didn’t tell me about her!”

Steve pursed his lips. “I wasn’t aware you wanted to hear about all my students’ parents.”

Bucky was thoroughly unamused.

“Steve. You told me when you changed dish soap, but you didn’t tell me that you’re now living a romance novel. What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“Hey!” Steve said, wacking him with a roll of paper towels. “Bucky, there are kids.”

“What the fudgesicle is wrong with you?” Bucky repeated in an identical tone.

“My life is not a romance novel. Take it easy. We’re just friends.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are,” he answered with a humorless laugh. “But you didn’t tell me about her. Which means you’re considering something that you’re not sure you should be considering. And you knew that if you told me, I would easily talk you into it.”

Steve took a moment to process that, glancing over at you again and straightening up in surprise when he caught your eye. You smiled, wide and genuine, raising a hand in a greeting that he quickly mirrored.

“That’s ridiculous,” Steve said quickly when you had turned away again, only half paying attention now because you were talking to Charlie, gesturing in his direction.

“I agree. But I’m right.”

You were walking their way now, and this conversation needed to be over right now.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a pain in the ass?”

“Steven. Please. The children.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a pain in the apple?” 

“You. Fairly often. And Sam even more often. But luckily his opinion means nothing to me.”

And while there were a hundred things Steve would love to say about that, there wasn’t time.

“Bucky, I swear, we can talk about it for as long as you want later, but right now I need you to act like a normal human being,” he said urgently. 

“Is she right behind me?”

“About to be.”

“Fine.”

Bucky plastered on an only slightly manic smile as he turned to greet you. 

“Hello! Interested in some face paint?”

You seemed caught off guard by the exuberant greeting, but recovered quickly.

“I think so, yes. How much?”

“Free! But we’re also collecting donations for the Woodbridge Elementary art program.”

“I see,” you said, eyes flickering to Steve for a moment. “Well, we kinda like the art program, don’t we?”

“Yep!” Charlie said, also peeking around Bucky to offer a tiny smile to Steve.

“Alright then. Go ahead and tell Steve what you want, and I’ll take care of the money stuff.”

You followed Bucky a few steps away to the donation table, and Charlie skipped up to him.

“Hi,” she said, waiting for him to pat the open stool before sitting down.

“Hi, Charlie. Know what you want yet, or do you want to look at some pictures?”

“Umm…” Her forehead scrunched a little as she thought. “Can you do a cat with a witch hat? Is that too hard? You can just do a pumpkin if that’s too hard.”

“Well, I think a cat with a witch hat is an awesome idea!” Steve said with a smile. “I’ll do my best, and if it doesn’t turn out right, we can try something else. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” she said with a nod.

Steve set out some clean brushes, a new cup of water, and a clean paper towel. 

“What color cat?”

“Orange?”

He nodded, setting up little dixie cups of orange, black, yellow, brown, and green paint.

“Alright, are you ready? It’s going to feel a little cold.”

“I’m ready! I’ll be real still,” she vowed, clenching her hands into determined little fists on her knees.

Steve started with a few dabs of color until Charlie relaxed a little, used to the sensation.

“Are you having fun at the festival?” he asked a few moments later, tracing the outline of a cat on her cheek.

“Yeah! We did the maze without a map! And we got bread for later. Mom’s making spaghetti for dinner!”

“Yum! Do you like spaghetti?”

“It’s my favorite. Mom always makes cheesy bread.”

“Well, this is going to be a good day then, huh? What else are you going to do?”

“Umm, we still have to pick our pumpkins! And, there are these earrings mom really likes over at the corn maze, but she won’t buy them. I think she should buy them.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve glanced over at the stall near the entrance to the corn maze. He’d spoken to that woman before a few times. She was a local artist who liked to make jewelry and print her abstract watercolor art on scarves. “What do they look like?”

“Like shiny green rocks and little gold leaves. She’ll look like a fairy.”

Steve smiled at the admiration in her voice, but before he could say anything, you wandered back over with Bucky.

“Oh my goodness. Charlie, you’re a masterpiece!” 

She smiled proudly as Steve added a last little detail to the cat’s witch hat before leaning back.

“All done,” he said, holding up the mirror for her. “What do you think?”

Her eyes widened along with her smile.

“It’s perfect! Thank you!”

“You’re very welcome.”

“Your turn,” Charlie said, hopping up from the stool and nudging you towards it.

“Is that allowed?” you laughed.

“If you want, then of course it is,” Steve said with an easy smile.

You turned to Charlie, smiling at her eager nod.

“Alright then. What should I get?”

“We could match! Or get an even bigger cat. Ooo! A tiger!”

“You heard the lady. One tiger in a witch hat, please,” you laughed, dropping into the stool beside Steve and setting your basket and purse down on the ground beside you.

“Mama, can I get my book?” Charlie asked, eyes on your purse.

“Yeah, of course. Big pocket.”

“There’s an extra chair at the donation table if you don’t mind sitting next to me,” Bucky told her as she liberated her book from your very full purse.

Charlie smiled a little shyly and nodded, following Bucky back to the donation table with a parting wave to you.

“How did I end up with the best kid in the world?” you asked, eyes following Charlie as Steve set up the paints.

“Mm, you and Tony might have to fight about that one.”

“Aw, Morgan is pretty great. I’m surprised she’s not here! It seems like the kind of thing she’d love.”

“They’re coming tomorrow, I think. Don’t be surprised if Pepper calls later to invite Charlie,” Steve said with a smile, dabbing orange paint onto a clean brush. “You ready?”

“Mhmm. Make me pretty, Mr. Rogers.”

“You manage that on your own. I’m just adding a pretty tiger,” he said quietly, fighting down a blush when you glanced at him with surprise. 

He cleared his throat. 

“Try not to move,” he said, hoping the cold paint would distract you as he began.

“Not moving. One of my favorite activities,” you said with a flicker of a smile. 

“For a not-mover, I hear you did pretty great in the corn maze.”

“Oh, that was all Charlie. If it was just me, I’d still be lost in there somewhere. Probably crying.”

Steve laughed.

“I’m sure someone would have saved you eventually.”

“Don’t know about that. I don’t imagine anyone having much sympathy for an adult sobbing alone in a corn maze.”

“Well, fine, then I would’ve saved you,” Steve said, catching an errant wind-blown strand of your hair before it could land in the wet paint. He tucked it gently behind your ear. 

Sitting this close to you, he heard your breath catch slightly, saw your blink land a little harder than normal.

“Sorry,” he said softly. “Didn’t want you to get paint in your hair.”

“Already saving me,” you said with a quiet little laugh. “You have a habit of doing that.” 

“You give me too much credit.”

“I don’t think I do. Saving someone doesn’t have to be some huge gesture. It can be something like… Cheering me up at an open house. Looking out for Charlie and making her smile every day. Giving someone grumpy a sticker. Being a friend,” you ventured, giving a delicate shrug so as not to move too much. 

Steve’s heart gave a little flutter, gave him permission to brush your hair back from your face again, though none of it was in danger of dragging through paint this time. 

“I like being your friend.”

“I like it too,” you said quietly.

Steve took a breath, less steady than he would have preferred, as he added one final dab of paint.

“Ready to see?”

“Absolutely.”

You called Charlie back to your side as Steve held up the mirror for you. You beamed at your reflection.

“Love it!”

“Good.”

The three of you exchanged a few more pleasantries before you and Charlie headed off into the crowds again. Bucky wasted no time. They were barely out of earshot when he dropped into the stool in front of Steve with an expectant grin.

“Go away,” Steve sighed. “Unless you want me to paint your face.”

“Oh, sure. Paint little hearts all over it. Then it’ll match yours,” he said smugly.

“Stop.”

“I like being your friend,” Bucky quoted in a dramatic voice. “Do you know how many times you’ve said that to me? None. None times. We’ve been friends since we were five, Steve.”

“Yeah, because I don’t like being your friend. You’re annoying.”

“She’s pretty. She’s nice. She’s fun. She’s not wearing a ring, and she didn’t mention anything about a partner. Her daughter is the chillest kid I’ve ever been around. What’s the problem?”

“There’s no problem, Bucky.”

“Then why are you not attached at the lips? Does she have the plague? Do you have the plague?”

“She has a daughter. She doesn’t date.”

That, at least, finally shut Bucky up. He narrowed his eyes, thinking for a moment.

“Did she tell you that?”

“Tony told me that. Not that I asked.”

“And Tony heard it from…?”

“Pepper.”

“Who heard it from…?”

Steve gestured in the direction you’d walked.

“Hmm…”

“She doesn’t feel comfortable bringing men around Charlie.”

“She brings you around Charlie.”

“I’m her art teacher. It’s not the same.” 

Bucky tapped restlessly at the table for another moment.

“I’m gonna think about this and get back to you.”

“Oh, please do,” Steve said sarcastically.

“Hey,” Bucky nudged him until he made eye contact, his expression much more serious now. “I mean it. You really like her, don’t you?”

“...Yeah,” Steve said with a helpless shrug. “So I’m happy to be her friend.”

“You really like her,” Bucky repeated firmly. “So we’ll figure it out. Because I’m pretty sure she likes you too.”

“Thanks Buck.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed, pushing up from the stool and knocking Steve’s shoulder with a light punch. “There’s a reason you keep me around, you know. Now stop frowning. You’re scaring the children.” 

Things returned to business as usual for about an hour. Steve painted a dozen more faces, had just finished a matching set of bumblebees on a tiny redhead and her grandmother when Bucky came jogging over again.

“Go, go, go!” he said urgently, shoving Steve out of his seat.

“What, why? Go where?” Steve asked, barely catching himself before he could hit the ground.

Bucky didn’t answer, grabbing the top of Steve’s head to steer his eyes in the right direction.

You and Charlie were laboring towards the parking lot, Charlie weighed down with a basket, tote bag, and your purse while you were nearly doubled over, rolling an enormous pumpkin across the patchy grass.

“Absolutely not,” he said quietly to himself, dodging around the edge of his table and running your direction.

“Whatcha got there?” he laughed, easily catching up to the two of you.

“The great pumpkin!” Charlie chimed in as you gave another shove to your regretfully chosen and mightily overgrown gourd.

“Are you sure? It’s not even sparkly,” Steve said, squinting speculatively.

“She’s sure,” you said, straightening up for a moment and swiping your hands on your jeans. “So we are escorting him to the car the best way we can. Him?” you asked, glancing at your daughter.

“Him.”

“Him,” you repeated, gesturing matter-of-factly at the pumpkin. 

“Got it. And would your giant orange gentleman like another escort to ease his journey?”

You made a face like you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry and settled for flinging your arms around him in a loose hug. 

“God, please. I will give you all the money in my wallet. I’ll give you my credit card. Would you like my social security number?”

Steve laughed, gently returning your hug for a brief moment before turning to face the pumpkin.

“Alright, pal. Let’s get you where you need to be.”

He squatted low to get his arms under it, straightened up with a low grunt as he hefted it up, leaning back slightly to take some of the weight on his chest. It wasn’t too heavy for him to manage, but the size and shape made it awkward to hold. Once he had it reasonably secure, he looked to you for direction, finding both you and Charlie staring at him with eyes as wide as you could make them. 

“Tell me where I’m going. I can’t see too well over this guy.”

You snapped into action then, taking your purse and basket from Charlie.

“Charlie, steer,” you said, pointing at Steve. “I’ll run and pull the car around.”

Charlie took up her station beside Steve, her hand on his elbow. You took off towards the parking lot, digging in your purse as you ran. 

“What are you going to name him?” Steve asked as Charlie gently steered him around clusters of oblivious people standing between him and the festival entrance. 

“I don’t know yet,” she said thoughtfully. “I didn’t think mom would say yes.”

“Let me know when you decide! I’m sure you’ll think of a great one.” 

“Are you okay? Is it too heavy?” she checked anxiously. 

“I’m alright,” he said with a laugh. 

You only kept them waiting for a minute before pulling up to the front entrance, popping the trunk before running over to them. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you said breathlessly, placing your hands on the pumpkin to help stabilize as Steve lowered it into the trunk of your car. 

“No problem,” he said, brushing his hands clean on his jeans, sighing when he noticed the drips of paint he’d managed to get on them. 

“Thank you, Mr. Steve,” Charlie said, hesitating for a moment before giving him a quick hug and fleeing to the back seat. 

Your eyes were soft as you stared after her, mouth curled into an amused smile.

“She’s never hugged me before,” Steve said quietly, feeling kind of like his heart might explode.

“Sweet girl. Did she call you Mr. Steve?” you asked with a laugh.

“Yeah, I told her she could just call me Steve outside of class. That’s the closest she’s gotten.”

“So cute,” you said with a sigh, shaking your head as if to clear it. “Anyway, thank you so much for your help. And for the face paint.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“It was nice seeing you,” you said warmly, squeezing his arm in goodbye as you took a step back toward the car. “Outside of school, I mean.”

“Nice seeing you too. Enjoy the rest of your weekend. And hey, if you decide to come back tomorrow with the Starks, come say hi before you leave.”

“I’ll let you know.”

You waved before settling back into the driver’s seat, and Steve backed towards the festival entrance, only turning to head back to the face paint table when you had driven away. 

At the last second, he swerved towards the jewelry booth, in search of shiny green rocks and little gold leaves.

---------------------

A slice of fall in June. Hope you enjoyed it! Would love, love, love to hear what you think of this little development!

As always, reblogs, replies, and asks make my world go round. Can’t do what I do without you!

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Tags: @shifutheshihtzu @internalbullshit @lilasiannerd-blog @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @iwillbeinmynest @scotlandasshole @netflixa @hardcorehippos @singingprincessstudent @sophiealiice @blue1928 @tinuviel015 @a-book-pressed-rose @bbparker @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @feelmyroarrrr @agentmstark​   @orangespocks​ @multifandomgirl-us​ @majesticavenger @buckybarneshairpullingkink​ @patzammit​ @pato-el-cerdito​

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #teacher!steve rogers #artist!steve rogers

[itsascreambaby96]

Eddie Munson as Ghostface? With Reader?

Halloween pranks turned into fun time in the bedroom?

Warnings: 18+, mdni!!!!! Everyone is over 18. Knife play! Mentions of murder (no one gets killed) Oral (male recieving), this is pure smut. Plot? I don't know her. P in v sex. Bit mean!Eddie (just a tiny bit). If I missed anything let me know.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

A/N: Hehe my love that is a brilliant idea. And I am honoured to write my first Eddie piece for you😁 you know this was the final push to write that piece we were talking about a few weeks ago🤭 is this my favourite thing ever? Yes. Yes it is😌

Also applications for a boyfriend or girlfriend to do this with me are still open😅

It's a scream baby!

Eddie has been teasing you with his stupid mask all month already. And you were only half way through October. Giving you creepy calls, asking you about your favourite scary movie, which ended in hot telephone sex. Jumping out from behind the fridge, which led to Eddie hitting it from behind over the kitchen counter. Or jumping from behind a door, which ended in sex against the wall. Or jumping out of your wardrobe, which led to sex on your bed. There was no limit for him. Not like he didn't get to scare and kill people. He did. He just loved making you jump.

Of course you knew he was the famous Ghostface killer. It wasn't hard to figure out considering your High School bully wound up dead, a day after you told your boyfriend Eddie about what happened back then. You weren't sorry for them. It's what they deserved. It was also kinda hot and you might or might have not had the best sex after he admitted it. Of course he was wearing the mask, who might still have had some blood on it.

Eddie knew you had a thing for Slashers. The way you always look at them when you two watched a horror movie was a tell tale sign. And he was so excited about the thing he had planned. In his head is was coming together perfectly.

You found a part time volunteer job for the corn maze in Hawkins. The uniform wasn't much, basically just a vest and the rest were your own clothes. It was pretty chill most days. You only had to call someone 4 times yet cause some people got lost.

Today had been a quiet day and it was closing time. Your co worker left you to do the final round alone because he had an important date apparently and it couldn't wait. He was an asshole anyway so you were glad he was gone.

With your fleshlight in hand you went through the maze. You knew every path by now. It wasn't completely dark yet but having the flashlight gave you a bit of safety.

You had a weird feeling going in but it was probably nothing. You were almost finished now, already making your way back and you still couldn't shake that weird feeling. Like your were being watched and followed. Looking behind you, you saw nothing. You were going just a tad quicker just in case.

And then you heard it, a twig snapped behind you and you froze. Someone was definitely behind you. It was darker now but you didn't need your fleshlight to see who was behind you. The white mask reflected the moonlight. Black empty eyes kept looking at you. You let out a breath, fairly certain that it was Eddie. Who else would it be? Though in this town you could never be too sure.

So you said "Fuck Eddie you almost gave me a heartattack!"

Ghostface tilted his head slightly. Fuck those eyes didn't give anything away.

"I am not Eddie." You gulped at the deep modulated voice. You know it was him. 99.99% sure. But to pretend he was just a nameless killer? It kinda rilled you up.

"Oh you wanna play psycho killer? Can I be the helpless victim? Ok let's see. No please don't kill me Mister Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel." You looked at him with fake innocent eyes.

You could hear Eddie snicker and you were relieved you were right.

"You better run fast, princess. If I catch you, it's over for you." That same deep voice spoke again. Your eyes widen, excitement bubbling up.

He came a step towards you, then another and another, before you were darting off, Ghostface right behind you. You knew this maze by heart, so it was definitely on purpose that you ran into a dead end so Eddie would catch you. Of course you didn't let him know that.

You muttered an audible "Fuck" and turned around. You could hear Eddie tsk behind you. He was closer than you initially thought. A surprise gasp leaving you as his leather gloved hand wrapped around the base of your neck lightly. Eddie lightly ran his knife over your cheek. Your heart was beating wildly, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

"Poor thing. Now what to do with you?" It was kind of thrilling that you couldn't see Eddie's face, yet his movements were so telling.

The pointy tip of his knife was under your chin, slowly lifting your head. The fact that it was a real knife and he could cut you with it, the danger of it all, only added to your arousal. You were sure your panties were already drenched.

Eddie slowly dragged the knife down your throat, only adding a tiny bit of pressure so you could feel the weight of the situation.

And you certainly did, it also turned you on immensely.

"Is there any way I can safe my life?" You were batting your eyelashes at him.

"I can think of a few things." Eddie dragged his knife up your thigh and under your skirt, making goosebumps rise on your skin. Then he kept dragging the dull end of the knife against your pussy over your panties, making you moan.

"On your knees Princess." Eddie pulled the knife back and you quickly got onto your knees in fron of him. Lifting his robe and opening his pants to pull Eddie's cock out. He was already hard. So you weren't the only one getting turned on by this.

"It's not gonna suck it self. So if you want your life spared, I suggest you start. And you better make it good." God that voice. Your pussy clenched around nothing.

You licked a long strip from base to top, wrapping your lips around his deep pink tip, licking off some of the precum. You repeated this motion a few times making sure all of his dick got wet with your saliva. Then you wrapped your lips around the tip again, letting your tongue glide over his slit. Eddie kept groaning and moaning the whole time, biting his lip under the mask.

You were enjoying this as much as he was, your juices already ruined your panties. Slowly you went to take more of him into your mouth until you couldn't take it anymore. Breathing through your nose you started to bob your head up and down. Your hand wrapping around what you couldn't fit into your mouth.

Your movements started slow but your pace became quicker by the minute. Occasionally you kept sucking on his sensitive tip. The low moans Eddie made only spurred you on. Drool was running down your chin mixed with his precum. Eddie loved messy blowjobs.

He tried to hold back the urge to fuck into your throat but his self-control was running thin.

"Hands behind your back princess." His voice was even deeper now, even with the changed voice.

You looked up at him with doe eyes, making Eddie twitch in your mouth. You put your arms behind your back and Eddie gripped your hair right as he made his first thrust. It was slow, as if to test you were ok with this. Once he saw you were eager and waiting he didn't hold back anymore. A gargled sound leaving you as he fucked his whole length into you. More drool and precum dribbling out of your mouth, down your chin. Your eyes began to water but you kept the same look on your face to let Eddie know you were enjoying this as much as he was.

Shoving the entirety of his cock down your throat he kept you in place. Your nose touching the soft tufft of his pubic hair. Tears wear running down your face now, completely ruinning your mascara.

You looked all the fucked out little slut Eddie knows you are only for him. That fact almost made him come.

He pulled you back by the hair after a few seconds, letting you take in some much needed air, before he pushed inside again and holding you there.

He repeated this for a while, you looking messier and messier every time he let you come up for air. And he was definitely getting off on this. His pace got quicker, you knew he was close. His cock throbbing in your mouth and with one final push he came. Groaning, he held you there until the last drop, then finally realising you from his grip. You were coughing a little, drool and some of his come on your chin, your mascara all over the place and your hair all tangled up. Eddie loved it.

He put his dick back into his pant and softly helped you stand up. You gave him a reassuring smile. Your knees hurted now but you knew he would take care of you.

"You did so well princess. But I am not done with you yet." With that he dragged you back to his van. Good for him that he knew the maze too. You were stumbling a little and were glad when you finally reached the van.

He opened the back door, and you saw an old mattress and a blanket on top of it. He really did plan this all through.

He pushed you inside and onto the mattress, making you giggle a little. Not bothering to close the door, Eddie got on top of you, still wearing his mask. He took off your vest and your shirt. Your skirt followed suit. Now he made a show out of cutting your bra and panties off. One of his favourite things to do during foreplay. The cold metal of the knife made you shiver.

He circled the tip of the knife around your nipples until they perked, giving a deep, satisfied hum. Slowly he dragged the knife over your stomach down to your pussy. His other gloved hand was running through your wet folds.

"All this shit got you this wet? What a dirty little slut you are. Letting a killer teat you like this and then letting him fuck you. Tsk, pathetic, really." He pulled his hand up to inspect the glove. It was glistening with your arousal in the moonlight that came into the van.

Taking the tip of the knife again he began circling your clit. A whiny moan escaped you as the cold metal came in touch with your heated pussy. But you were enjoying yourself. He didn't keep this teasing up for long and threw his knife to the side. Pulling his robes up he took his pants and boxers off. His dick was already hard again.

He didn't waste more time, spreading your legs he pushed inside of you with one quick push. You threw your head back both in pleasure and pain from the stretch.

"Fuck always the best fucking pussy. Sucking me in so deep." Eddie grit out between his teeth. He could spend hours inside of you if you'd let him. Usually he gave you time to adjust but he was really impatient today and so he didn't give you as much time to adjust to his length and girth. Instead he almost completely pulled out of you and snapped right back into you, knocking the wind out of you.

You let out a choked moan as Eddie kept drilling into you and soon the pain vanished and all that was left was hot pleasure.

You wanted to hold onto him but as quick as lightning he grapped your wrists and pinned them over your head with one hand. Black eyes staring at you. The sorta anonymity made you clench tight around Eddie's dick making him groan.

With every hard thrust the mattress moved but you could care less about that. You were biting your lip to quieten some of your moans but Eddie wasn't having it.

"You better moan as loud as you want, because I want every damn person in this town to know how good I am making you feel." He was almost growling and who were you to say no to him. And so you released every moan and whine and groan you wanted. The squelching sound of your pussy adding to the erotic of this whole situation.

Eddies thrusts became harder, sloppier and erratic. You knew he was getting close again but you also knew he wanted you to come first.

His hand moved between tthe two of you and he started to rub circles against your clit, using the right pressure and pace to match his thrusts.

Like this, it didn't take long for you to tip over the edge. Your ears started to ring and a loud high pitched moan came out of you. Your legs wrapping around Eddie, locking him in, as he too, reached his end, emtpying himself deep inside of you.

Once you've both calmed down Eddie finally took off his mask and the robe as well as his shirt. He pulled out of you, colapsing next to you onto the mattress and pulling you into his arms. He gave you a long and meaningful kiss that made you melt. Your heart was still hammering against your chest.

"Was it everything you dreamt of?" His voice sounded normal again, making you relax instantly.

"No. It was even better." Your voice was hoarse but that was to be expected. You didn't mind.

"I'm glad." Eddie kissed the top of your head. You two kept laying there for a little while longer before driving home and taking a well deserved shower. After another round, consisting of Eddie eating you out you fell asleep exhausted but oh so satisfied. You definitely planned on doing this again.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #ghostface!eddie #stranger things 4 #bea's writing

[agent-cupcake]

Trouble Man

This marks my third completed commissioned fic! I may have gone a little far in places, added some unnecessary flourishes... Either way, thank you to the person who commissioned this (and all of you) for being so patient with me!

Pairing: Arkhamverse Jason Todd x f!reader

Synopsis: After a chance meeting late one night while Jason—the Arkham Knight—is playing civilian, he develops a bit of a crush. Months later, after the events of the base game, your unfortunate involvement in a crime requires a visit from Red Hood to coax out some honest answers.

Warnings: explicit smut, dubcon, murder ment., stalking, angst, gun kink, rough sex, possessive behavior

Notes: I must give a big girthy thanks to my sweet muse and local DC expert for her help on this, it wouldn't exist without her help. It's also important to recommend you all watch clips from Arkham Knight - Red Hood because the delivery of his oneliners are absolute gold. Jason Todd has definitely risen to the upper echelon of tragic men in my life, he's worth your attention.

Word Count: 17k

I.

Dry leaves crackled like paper through the breeze, tumbling over brown grass and grinding beneath your feet as you walked through the park, hands shoved deep into your pockets and head down. Their colors had changed as the trees shed, creating a sea of red and orange and yellow paste over the sidewalk. 

You thought walking home instead of taking the subway would help. Walking was what people did to think, to contemplate their life and their future, to pace out the excess energy that came with stress. But the autumn sun was bright and cold. A storm threatened the horizon in smeared shades of mean dark gray. The air stank of rotting foliage and filth. With each breath, you suffocated on it, choking on smog and the sour scent of Gotham’s streets, choking on the rising tide of existential dread, choking on this looming fear of something you knew existed yet couldn’t quite see.

The question of what you were going to do echoed in the back of your mind, even if the answer was decided. Because it was unfair, because you were scared. All you could think about were the shiny reporters on the television gleefully claiming that crime rates had fallen, that Batman had cleaned up the city, that everyone was saved. It was funny to think that you got this job with the idea that you could turn your life around, a small step towards salvaging your life. Who would have thought anything would be wrong with a place called something as dumb as the Palace of Pies? 

What a fine mess it all was. Your head ached, your throat swollen with angry tears and a frustrating, primal need to excise the tempest of emotions you crushed down. Idly, you wondered what would happen if you were to stop in your tracks and begin screaming. Would anyone look? Would anyone stop and ask what was the matter? You didn’t think so. People would step around you, avoiding eye contact. That’s what you would do. Everything in the city, if not trying to actively harm you, was passively hostile. Looking beyond yourself was how you got hurt. Being surrounded by people only made you more aware of how alone you were, how aggressive isolation en masse could be. 

With the weather turning so quickly, few people lingered in the park, merely passing through on their way to or from something. Always going, moving, acting with purpose and a destination, paying no mind to the changing season. When you were younger, you loved the fall. Back when costumes were saved for Halloween and horror was strictly contained to the scary movies you watched without your parent’s permission. Who needed a creepy corn maze or haunted house when you had the privilege of living in Gotham City? 

You breathed out, trying to exhale those thoughts. Trying to think. Clearly, for once, although it was hard when you never got enough sleep, when you never had any space to seek clarity. Gotham was a place without peace. You could never find solace away from the people and the noise and the claustrophobic streets and decaying walls that seemed to close in the longer you stayed. It was inescapable, no matter where you were. The breeze churned up all manner of unsavory smells, carrying the sound of people talking and dogs barking and cars honking, cluttering your senses. It was never quiet, never clean, never calm, never safe. Just last week, a woman had been brutally stabbed to death only a half mile away from the path you were on. Her dog too. Part of you feared stories like that, knowing it could just as easily happen to you. Part of you didn’t care, really. So what if it did. 

And yet, the plastic newswoman cried with religious fervor, crime was down. Thank God for that. 

When you got down, you knew quite surely that you would die here. The city that once held the sparkling allure of hopes and dreams and promise, a life grander than you could have in a small town upstate, turned out to be nothing more than a slaughterhouse. 

These days, these terrible, sentimental days, you could imagine it. Dialing the numbers—you knew they wouldn’t have changed, even after all this time, nothing ever changed there—and holding the phone up to your ear with a clammy hand, hearing her voice for the first time in years.

“Hey mom.” You would sound sheepish, your voice up a few halftones to mimic the girlish sound you had before you left. “It’s me. It’s been a while. I know, I’m sorry. I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m—”

You wouldn’t. You couldn’t. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was mercy. Mostly it was just pride. Anger. This was the bed you made and you could hate yourself and you could hate the man who sold you pretty lies and you could hate the wretched city and you could hate your dead end job working for an obvious criminal but you could hate them too, if nothing else then just to try and cope with it all. 

You shoved your hands deeper into your pockets and lowered your head to brace against the wind. A storm was going to hit soon. 

II.

The rattling thunder was what snapped you alert, the metal shelves lined with plastic bottles and boxes of toilet paper trembling with the force of it. You’d meant to take a short break, but somehow you had managed to doze off sitting on an upturned bucket in the back room, leaning against the wall amidst cleaning supplies with your eyes closed and mind wandering far away, lulled by the sound of rain on the roof. Thinking of home, of the wind knocking the pale limbs of aspen trees against your window as gentler storms passed through the town, watching lightning from your bed and hiding beneath the covers at the thunder. 

Annoyed with yourself, you stood up, grabbed the napkins, and returned to the front of the house to do your table rounds before you got in trouble. 

Nobody really seemed to care either way. The few customers that had trudged into the inauthentically kitschy restaurant at such a late hour were soaked and cold and cranky and addled by some substance or another. Despite the attempts to cheer the place up with warm lighting and friendly decor, the whole restaurant had a dour atmosphere. Dark, miserable, heavy with the kind of mundane tragedy that carried the careers of famous poets. It seemed as if, no matter how bright the lights shined, they couldn’t fight off the creeping shadows of Gotham. 

In other words, it was a normal night for you. Too many hours on your feet, too much caffeine, too few full nights of rest. Nobody else wanted the late shift waiting tables in city like this and it wasn’t like you blamed them—God only knew that you didn’t want to be here either—but you were too strapped for cash to be picky. In a way, you imagined your brain was attempting to help you by conjuring fantasies of better times. But happy memories only got more and more sour with age, the highs casting the lows in thicker shadow. 

Better not to think of it. Your shift was almost done. Just get the night over with, and then the day would be over. You didn’t think of what came after that, didn’t dare to consider tomorrow. Short term goals were easier to handle, easier to stomach. Nothing else was worth thinking about.  

It was almost fate, if you were the type to believe in such things. You were looking for a distraction from your thoughts and he showed up as the clock’s little hand neared twelve and you knew immediately that he was different. Despite the downpour, he had no umbrella. What he did have was a black hoodie with the hood pulled up, the fabric soaked through and clinging to his torso, and an aura of disquiet, obviously unlike the hungry stoners and the late workers and the otherwise normal folks who came in. A chill and trail of rainwater chased him inside to where he sat at the counter, empty red vinyl barstools surrounding him on both sides. Different wasn’t good or bad, necessarily. If he was the type to make trouble, the cook, a guy you knew only as Ace, would scare him off with his 32. Different was, at the very least, distracting. You put on a smile and rounded the counter. 

“How are you doing tonight?” you asked in a serviceably friendly voice as you took the pot of coffee from the warmer and poured him a cup. 

His eyes were lucid enough, at least enough that you didn’t think he was on drugs. The two of you sized each other up for a moment before he gave you an ironic half smile that clearly asked ‘how do you think I’m doing?’ Which was fair. Close up, you could see that he had a developing bruise right on his cheekbone, although the more striking feature was the mark on the opposite cheek. It looked like the letter J had been carved into the skin. An old wound, the skin pale and puckered with scar tissue. Best guess, it was a gang thing. That was part and parcel for Gotham, and especially for the Palace. 

But, bruise and scars and all, that sarcastic little grin was attractive. He wasn’t exactly tall, dark, and handsome, but whatever the more menacing equivalent was. 

“Wet,” was all he said after a long moment, his tone ironically dry.

You reached under the counter to grab a clean towel, sliding it over to him. He eyed it suspiciously. “Might help a little,” you explained. He didn’t look convinced, but there was no way he wasn’t cold. You felt cold just looking at him. “Come on, you’re dripping everywhere as is,” you told him with a huff, gesturing to the water he’d tracked in. It was too late to fix now, but watching him literally drip rain water was just a touch too melodramatically sad even for you. 

Hesitating, he looked down and behind himself at the puddles that had followed him inside. While he didn’t have the grace to so much as pretend to be apologetic, he did accept your offer and began toweling off his hair. It was dark and cut short, save for the bangs that were a stark white. Was that a gang thing too? It worked, oddly. Or, he was odd and it worked. 

“Anyway,” you said, reverting to your patented professional tone to cover the fact that you had been staring. “Can I get you started with something to drink?” 

“Just coffee’s fine,” he told you, tossing the towel back onto the counter and running a hand through his semi-dried hair to keep it pushed back. Despite your best attempts at professionalism, your eyes tracked the motion. He was wearing gloves. Probably to hide a set of bruised knuckles, a person didn’t catch a shiner like that playing nice.

"Do you have any questions about the menu?” you asked. “Tonight's special is-"

"Yeah, I’ll have that.”  

Considering he hadn’t so much as glanced at the menu or let you finish the pitch, his eyes scanning the restaurant with a restlessly critical look, you doubted he even knew what he was ordering. Maybe he didn’t care. 

“Alright,” you said. “Anything else?” 

“Nope,” he said, finally looking back at you. His eyes were pretty, even bloodshot and shadowed with exhaustion. Blue, lined with thick black lashes that still sparkled with rain whenever he blinked. 

“If you need anything else,” you told him, “just let me know.” 

“Will do.” 

Quickly scribbling the order onto your pad, you slid it across the window to Ace in exchange for finished meals and did your rounds. Table seven got their hash browns, over easy eggs, and chicken tenders. Table five got their big pieces of banana pie. All the while, you couldn't help but feel that the man at the counter was watching you. He probably wasn’t. Or maybe he was. Not that you actually, really cared that much either way. You didn’t want to check though, just in case. 

When you returned to the window between the kitchen to drop off the dishes, you saw the Ace was gone. Probably for another cigarette break. Of course. The man’s addiction to nicotine was astounding. But he wouldn’t be punished for it, even if you complained. The quality of his work was unimportant, he was a part of it. Whatever Mr. Anthony’s real business was, Ace was his guy. 

You grabbed the chicken fried steak meal—the day's special—and delivered it to the mysterious customer at the counter. He eyed the food hungrily, barely responding to your offer of “If you need anything else…” before digging in. 

The clock said you had forty five or so minutes before closing, which meant an hour or more left. You could do another hour. Another two hours, if you were being realistic. But you rounded down, it was easier to handle that way. Refilling drinks, cleaning up tables, sweeping the floors, you did these things on autopilot. Table five, a pair of young junkies you were decently familiar with by now, finished their meal and paid. You checked them out with a smile all of you knew was fake, taking their lack of tip with a brave face. 

The door opened with a little burst of rain washing over the threshold as they left, the sound of it pounding against the blacktop abrasively loud. Even if you knew it wasn’t actually a fact, you didn’t think it ever stopped raining in Gotham, as if God himself was trying to wash the city away in some form of biblical vengeance. 

“I was surprised to see a place like this open this time of night,” the man at the counter said. You jumped a little at the sound of his voice, turning away from the register with the uncomfortable realization that he had most definitely been staring, at least just now. He didn’t try to hide it either, his elbows propped up on the counter and head tilted at a slight angle. His plate was almost empty, which made sense considering the ferocity with which he’d been eating.

“Yep, we’re open till one,” you said, trying not to seem flustered. 

“Don’t you think it's a little dangerous to be working so late?” he asked. It was difficult to read his tone. Not quite a warning, but not a joke either. “Gotham’s not a very nice place.”

You shrugged. “This area isn’t that dangerous.” 

“And after you leave?” 

Once again, you couldn’t place his tone. You didn’t want to automatically think the worst of the man, but you weren’t naive enough to miss the possible threat. “You know, it’d be pretty easy to take a question like that the wrong way,” you told him bluntly, taking a somewhat playful tone to hide your discomfort and diffuse the question. “I wouldn’t. But someone else might.” 

“They might,” he agreed easily. 

“Not that I think you meant anything by it.” 

“I never said I was the one you needed to worry about.”  

He had to be messing with you. Either that or he was deranged. The slightly ironic upturn of his mouth made you think—or hope—that it was the former. “Either way, it is what it is,” you said, waving your hand dismissively. “Que sera and all that.” 

He hesitated, eyebrows knitting slightly. “Kay… What?” 

“You know, like the song,” you said. “What will be, will be. Was it Rosemary Clooney? Or… Doris Day, I think.” He stared at you, obviously lost. You waved it off again, shaking your head. “Anyway, the point is that I’m fine."

He grunted noncommittally, clearly not buying it. "Bet whoever's waiting for you at home hates it that you’re gone so late.” 

You snorted. “If I had someone waiting for me, do you really think I’d be here?” It occurred to you a second too late that he might have been flirting, surreptitiously asking if you were single. Or maybe he wanted to know if a potential mark had anyone to worry about her getting home. The fact that you couldn’t really tell was probably a bad sign. “And anyway, I hate to be rude,” you continued blithely, brute forcing a change of topic, “but I’m not sure you’re the one who should be giving out safety tips.” Your eyes lingered pointedly on the bruise swelling up his cheek. You’d had bruises like that in the past and, no matter what you told anybody, they didn’t come from being clumsy. 

“Oh, this?” His hand raised, fingertips coming into contact with the swollen injury like he’d forgotten it was there. “You should see the other guy.” 

Red flag? Innocuous boast? 

“Hopefully he’s in handcuffs by now,” you said, picking the route of deflection. “I mean, hitting a handsome face like yours must be breaking some law.” 

“Well, he wouldn’t be the first,” he said, something dark and ironic marring his otherwise confident demeanor. That reaction gave you pause, your eyes catching on the letter carved into his cheek. There were more scars too, old ones. 

“Ah, sorry,” you said, nerves catching up to your attempt at a cool demeanor. “I have a tendency to make jokes out of things that… aren’t funny.”  

“I’m not very big on comedy.” 

“Well, you’re in luck because I’m not funny,” you told him. “I only pretend like I am.”

 “So all of this,” he said, gesturing vaguely, “was a joke?” Unlike his previous statement, the question sounded more lighthearted. It made you doubt yourself all over again, worried you had overcorrected with the apology. 

“Not… everything,” you replied. “I-”

“Got an order of mozzarella sticks,” Ace called, cutting you off.

While the cook’s voice merely surprised you, the man at the counter tensed up immediately, his body going taut in preparation to jump up. You blinked, kicking yourself for getting carried away, unnerved by the man’s reaction. It was the quick trigger response to stress you knew fairly well. He relaxed immediately, or at least untensed slightly. The shift was so fast, it was as if it hadn’t happened. 

“Sorry, I’ve gotta,” you motioned behind yourself, feeling apologetic for some reason. 

“Do your job?” he asked dryly. 

“Yeah, that. Let me know if-”

“Will do.”  

You nodded and turned away, tending to the other tables and cleaning up so you could get off at a semi-reasonable time. It was impossible to not feel overly aware of the man at the counter. You wondered if he was actually interested or if he was just playing along. You wondered what you looked like to him. You wondered why he’d gotten hit in the face. You wondered a lot of things, had so many questions you knew you’d never get an answer to. The scars, the haunted look in his eyes. He was dangerous, you were pretty confident of that. He was something else too. You thought. Then again, it was just as likely that you wanted to think the best of this handsome stranger. It wouldn’t be the first time you made a dumb mistake like that.

A few minutes later, after the banana pie couple paid and left, you returned to the man at the counter, clearing his clean plate. “Can I get you anything else?” you asked. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll take the check.”

“No pie?”

“It’s late,” was all he said, rolling his shoulders slowly. There was a hunch to them, something you hadn’t noticed before. It contrasted with his otherwise poised form.  

“That’s completely missing the whole point of eating here,” you told him sternly. “What do you like? Cherry? Pumpkin?” 

He snorted. “I’ll pass.” 

“It’s on me,” you told him. When he opened his mouth to argue, you added, “—and in a to-go box. I know for a fact that it’ll make your night better. Think of it as thanks."

"Thanks for what?"

"For reminding me that there are people having a worse night than me,” you said with a smile. “Now, what’s your favorite?"

He stared at you for a long moment and you wondered if you had finally crossed that oh-so thin line of propriety. Then he smiled, shrugged. “Dealer’s choice.” 

In the end, he left with a cardboard box of vanilla cream pie and an expressive combination of amused bemusement on his face. You helped Ace close up, going over your interaction over and over in your head, eventually coming to the conclusion that you had made a fool of yourself. You always liked to seem so clever, as if anyone would be impressed, as if anyone would think of you outside the liminal space of the stupid little resturaunt, as if you could even exist outside of what service you could offer. You didn’t even know his name. 

It was still raining when you left. 

III.

Sometimes, you had a tough time being positive. 

Most of the time, really. 

Gotham did that to people. 

But you did try, it was just difficult when you got off late and held your bag close as you traversed the creepy empty subway and the filth that lined the underground, your head down to avoid the hungry eyes of stray beggars. More and more, you were getting off late, closing time getting pushed back to account for the shipments coming in the back. You played dumb, but you weren’t entirely stupid to what was going on. Drugs? Weapons? You didn’t know the details of what was happening. You didn’t want to know the details, you didn’t want to admit that you saw anything you weren’t supposed to. You were selfish, all you knew for sure was that something was going on and you were afraid and alone. 

It was like being a ghost, like being trapped in some hellish nightmare where each day repeated itself without end.

When you boarded the subway, you huddled in a corner seat, giving the train a cursory glance before ducking your head again. Time and time again, you thought you noticed the same hooded person on your way home. Never close enough to see a face, just the shadow of a figure in another car or across a crowd. And you didn’t think you would be so sensitive, so hyper aware of it, if you didn’t get the awful impression that somebody had been into your apartment sometimes when you got home. There was no proof. A mess where you thought you had tidied, old things you had shoved into drawers to be forgotten sitting on top of your dresser. 

But, you reasoned, if you were being followed, if Mr. Anthony’s crimes were significant to warrant that sort of thing, you would have known, surely. You would be able to come up with evidence, with something solid. Unraveling sanity wasn’t fact. You were just tired, overworked, and stressed. You were a fool girl all alone in a city whose natural process was to chew up innocence and spit it out into the trash that littered the streets. The ultimate fact was that you weren’t interesting enough to be followed. There were a dozen girls just like you in the city. More, probably, and most of them were more interesting too. 

In the worst way, in the darkest parts of your mind, you thought it would almost be flattering to have a stalker. To matter to someone. And that was just…

You couldn’t follow that thought to its natural conclusion. It was better to stare at the filthy floor beneath your feet and listen to the city’s abrasive symphony. 

IV.

The restaurant was relatively busy when the news came. On Halloween, people wanted a place to eat before or after the night’s entertainment. And entertainment was what they got, footage of people infected with Scarecrow’s fear toxic, their brains twisted and driven insane. It was a massacre. 

“Gotham, this is your only warning.”  

Scarecrow’s announcement broadcasted through the city after that terrifying footage played. Evacuation instructions were issued shortly after, but the damage was done, the panic had begun. Through radios, televisions, loudspeakers, megaphones, everywhere was the same message. Get out. Escape. 

But it was mayhem. Footage of the Scarecrow’s face, of the savagery in the diner, was projected just as prolifically as information on how to evacuate. Watching customers leave the Palace of Pies was like watching a concert crush, bodies congealing at the door as they desperately tried to get out. 

And you, not knowing what to do, joined them. All around were screaming children in their costumes, people fighting and shouting at each other, others trying to direct foot traffic in some attempt to play hero. Everywhere was chaos and you couldn’t ground yourself in reality, it didn’t feel real. It couldn’t possibly be real. 

You passed a woman shouting for her child, begging passersby to help her. You passed someone looking around with wild eyes, asking nobody in particular what he was supposed to do. Nobody answered, nobody stopped, nobody helped. 

The police had checkpoints set up, alarms blaring past the relentless, all consuming noise. People rammed into one another in a block of bodies, stinking of rain water and sweat and city filth all stirred up by too many feet. Another bus peeled away from the curb, you could only see the glistening top of it and hear the shouting, people begging to be let on. You didn’t like your chances of getting on one of those buses. They filled up nearly as fast as they hit the curb, it didn’t matter how many came, the crowd only got bigger, swelling to an unmanageable size despite the domineering corralling of the police officers. 

Someone elbowed you hard in the stomach and you stumbled. The noise and panic was too intense for your cry to rise above the roar of voices, of babies screaming and wheels squealing and rain pounding. Like a violent, churning ocean, the crowd gathered and heaved and you were pushed from the tumultuous tide, forced into the back of the hoard. All you could imagine was yourself all alone, abandoned on the streets of Gotham, driven mad like the people in the video.

What terror would you see? What waking nightmare would your mind torment you with? You had a few guesses.

A crack in the sidewalk caught your toe, upsetting your balance entirely. Falling onto the concrete tore up the skin of your knee in an ugly way, the shredded skin immediately welling bright red blood. Nobody stopped for you, someone’s boot came dangerously close to smashing your fingers before you flinched away. 

A gloved hand entered your vision, and you realized it was meant for you. His grip was steady and firm as he helped you to your feet. Your rescuer, a tall, imposing man, was saying your name. Your name. You didn’t recognize him, not even slightly, and you couldn’t comprehend it, too panicked, too confused, your ears ringing something fierce. 

“Do I know you?” you asked him, trying to escape his grip without any success, distrust freezing your fear.

“Stay close to me, you’re getting on this bus,” he told you, diving back into the crowd without any further explanation. You barely registered his words, too busy stumbling along. His grip on your hand was firm, unyielding even as you tried to pull back, trying to make yourself heard over the crowd as you demanded you know who he was or what was happening.

Unlike you, he had no problem parting the tumultuous waves of people. They swore and lashed out like wild animals, but after a suffocating march, you broke out into the front. The bus was loaded, the final few people attempting to fight their way onto the bus swarming like angry wasps. You held fast onto the man as he knifed his way to the officer guiding the crush. Everybody was shouting, wailing. Violent elbows thrown and bodies jostling and it was too much. You were confused and scared and suspicious, but you weren’t stupid either. All you could do was cling to the man dragging you along and hunch your shoulders as if you were weathering a storm. 

The officer tried to stop the man leading you, holding up his baton threateningly, but your guide didn’t back down. Whatever he said to the officer made him frown, the cop looking you up and down with a hard look. You were prepared for rejection, to be physically thrown away from the door like the other people who tried to board without permission. 

“Go,” your guide shouted, releasing you. The immediate urge was to reject him, but you were given a hard push and tripped upward on the steps, your palms scraping the gritty traction mats. People were cursing and spitting and screaming at you from behind, but the officer didn’t stop you. No matter what the circumstances, you didn’t really have a choice but to obey. 

Inside, the bus stank of sweat and rainwater and filth and you were met with various degrees of hostility, anxiety, and glassy indifference. People packed into the faded and torn seats like canned fish, clutching their bags close and curled in on themselves out of distrust for their fellow man. Hands pounded at the windows, faces pressed to the glass. You took a look back, but the man who’d escorted you was gone. The door unfolded and shut with a painful squeal. 

After being snapped at by the driver, you claimed one of the last available spots next to a mother and her weeping child. A pumpkin was painted on the kid’s round, ruddy cheek, streaked with tears. The mom looked at you with narrowed eyes and you looked away, focusing on the blood welling up and crusting over your skinned knee. 

Almost laughably, one of the few thoughts you could scrape together was that you didn’t have a toothbrush. 

V.

Palace of Pies, just like so many palaces before it, survived the siege. Your apartment complex fared slightly worse, but the damage was mostly superficial. The hot water was out for a week and you had to pass a city full of wreckage just to get a box of cereal. All the same, you were lucky. You returned from the emergency shelter to a life pretty much intact. Gotham was a different story. Batman unmasked, billionaire dead, a city secured and returned to its people. Mostly. 

It was advertised as a good conclusion to a terrible situation, but that seldom held true. That was how it always went for those who lived beyond the tall buildings and glittering lights. Gotham had reached an equilibrium of sorts before the attack, somewhat, but now it was all busted. Criminals, the petty ones, the ones that had nothing to do with super villains or masked vigilantes, scurried around like rats. The fallout rattled even the most minor of them into a panic. And then there were stories about something worse than Batman. Successors or ghosts or whatever. These days, the Palace of Pies felt more like the den of a cornered animal. 

And you hadn’t meant to see anything, only wanting to leave a note that recommended a repairman be sent for the old coffee maker that was broken again, but another order sheet was on the very top of Mr. Anthony’s desk. Some of it was written in code or with strange nicknames, but you knew enough to decipher what was being ordered. Chemicals for drugs and parts you assumed were used in weapons manufacturing. All signed off by a man named Hector on behalf of his employer. While you had no idea who Hector might have been, you definitely recognized the name of his boss. 

Christ.

Seeing it all written down, for some reason, was the thing to send you over. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t known that shady things were happening before, and it was stupid to buy into the dream that crime would simply go away, that criminals would change their ways. It was one thing for Mr. Anthony to be affiliated with local gangs, but he’d taken it a step further. A big, terrible step further. Your eyes scanned the sheet with increasing fear and discomfort, reality like a vice around your heart. 

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” Ace asked from the doorway, startling you. The sound of his voice nearly caused you to jump out of your skin. But you didn’t give into your fear, turning and facing him like nothing was wrong. His face was red, twisted with a form of rage you were all too familiar with. 

“The coffee maker’s broken,” you told him. 

“You’re not allowed in here,” he said, his hand poised like he was going for his gun. 

“The door was unlocked,” you pointed out, refusing to feed into his anger by showing your fear. It was an old trick, the kind that always made things worse, but it was satisfying nonetheless. It was his own fault, his own carelessness, it wasn’t like you wanted to know that your boss was working for an insane cultist. 

“Get out of here,” Ace told you, his voice low and eyes all but slits. “Now.” 

The urge to get in the last word, to be clever, to be stupidly defiant, almost made you say something that would really set him off. Almost. It was the look in his narrowed eyes, the way his hand was settled on his gun, that made you reconsider. 

Ace smelled foul, like stale cigarette smoke and grease, as you passed him in the doorway. You held your breath all the way into the bathroom where you promptly threw up three cups of coffee and a stomach full of sour bile, eventually falling back onto the dirty tile with your eyes closed. 

VI.

Mr. Anthony had just finished a meeting with a group of unfamiliar men in the back room when he ordered his customary piece of cherry pie. Mostly unfamiliar men. Some faces came around often enough for you to recognize and now that you knew what you were looking for, figuring out who “Hector” was wasn’t difficult. Both he and his employer had a particular style. Cults were like that.

Just thinking of it made your stomach twist with nausea. Nobody knew what happened to many of the criminals after the incident in Arkham Asylum, and that was obscured further by the reform that had taken place recently. Speculation floated around Gotham, but that was all it ever was. Speculation. And you could hope that it was just a copycat criminal, you could hope that someone had stolen the moniker, but if it was him, if that was who Mr. Anthony had teamed up with, sticking around was borderline suicidal. 

But when you thought about that, you were reminded with a cold sort of brutality that you had nowhere to go. 

All you could do was serve Mr. Anthony the cherry pie he ordered with a polite demeanor and hope. Hope for salvation, for some sort of divine intervention. You thought about your rescuer from Halloween night, wondered who it was, why he had helped you, how he had known you. You wondered if he would come back, if he would save you again. But those were the thoughts of an idealistic child, you knew that. Real life was never so kind. 

“Can I get you anything else, sir?” you asked.

Mr. Anthony looked sicklier by the day. He was putting on more weight, his face puffy and pale like pastry dough, his big forehead shiny with sweat. He was drinking heavily from a gold plated flask, his movements jittery and eyes shifting nervously around the restaurant even after his associates were gone. 

“Yeah, why don’t you sit down. Take a little break,” Mr. Anthony offered in a would-be casual voice, gesturing to the empty chair with his fork. “I wanna have a chat.” 

Your heart sunk into your stomach like a rock. Did he know? Had he guessed your thoughts? Had Ace told him what you had accidentally seen? Fighting your creeping dread, you did as he indicated. It wasn’t like anybody was coming in, the place was dead. These days, it was almost always dead.

“Yes?” you asked, feigning innocence despite the way your voice shook. 

“I bet you’ve noticed that things have changed around here,” Mr. Anthony said. Although he was drinking, his dark eyes were lucid when they focused on you. A man as paranoid as him wouldn’t get drunk in public, it was just to ease the edge. You knew all about that.

“I guess. But everything has changed since the incident,” you responded carefully. “I think the Palace has recovered well though.” He wasn’t stupid, the both of you knew that wasn’t what he asked. But there was a time for cheek and a time for honesty and you were too scared for either, your nerves rubbed raw. 

"Do you like working here?" he asked rather than push you on that, abruptly shifting the conversation. 

"I do," you told him, pouring as much sincerity into the words as you could manage. 

"You feel like you're being treated fairly?" 

"Yes, sir.” 

“I like to make sure my employees are happy,” he stressed. “You know what I mean, happy?” 

“Yes, I think I do.” 

“Running a business is like being the captain of a ship. If anybody steps out of line, we all sink together. I’ve gotta keep a tight ship,” he emphasized the point by making a fist, a fast movement that made you flinch. “That’s the only way we can stay afloat.” 

“I understand,” you emphatically agreed. Then you hesitated, thinking. He needed more. He needed reassurance. Wiping your sweaty hands on your apron, you cleared your throat. “You’ve always treated me with respect, I wouldn’t do something to betray that. It’s tough to find respect in this city.” 

"Yeah, that’s true. You're a smart girl,” Mr. Anthony said, nodding, taking another big drink from his flask. “Got a good head on your shoulders." He chuckled. Prickling discomfort ran down the entire length of your spine. "You’re not gonna do anything stupid. No, no, you’re a smart girl. You know what’s good for you.” A vague sort of mania shone in his dark eyes and you knew what he meant. If you turned on him or his associates in any way, you were as good as dead. It wouldn’t matter even a bit if you wound up in a ditch outside of town, nobody would care. But if you were smart, you would keep your mouth shut and continue doing what you were told. You would ignore the things you saw and continue to serve his cherry pie with a smile.  

“Thank you, sir,” you said.

Mr. Anthony didn’t say anything, but he didn’t dismiss you either. He just shoved forkful after forkful of pie into his mouth, pausing every few bites for a drink. A catchy top ten pop song played distantly over the radio.

“Do you have a family?” Mr. Anthony finally asked, his eyes a little glazed over as he considered the last few bites of pie. He wasn’t quite drunk, but his words were slurred. 

“I moved away from home a while back,” you said cautiously, unsure of why he’d ask.

“What about a boyfriend?”

You almost replied with something acerbic and deflective, defiant that he’d ask something so personal. But you didn’t, swallowing down the disgust and discomfort. “No, sir.” 

“Well, you’re still young,” he said. “I got married younger than you are now, you know.” 

“Yes, sir,” you told him. “I’ve met your wife.” 

“My wife…” He grimaced. “Not anymore. We’re separated now. She abandoned ship, didn’t agree with my decisions…” His statement trailed off, his expression solemn, grave. “That’s how it goes in Gotham. We’re all alone. No matter what you do, how hard you try…” Mr. Anthony shook his head, taking another drink from his flask only to realize it was empty. He scowled at that too. “I can’t stand disloyalty. Can’t stomach it. You know what I mean?”  

“I do.”

“Respect, that’s all I ask for. Respect and loyalty.” 

“And pie?” you ventured, forcing a smile in a desperate attempt to lighten the mood. 

Mr. Anthony hesitated before returning your smile. The way he laughed sent shivers down your back, that same manic sound from before. “Yeah, you’re a smart girl. I can count on you, can’t I?” 

“Yes, sir.”   

In the end, you walked away from the encounter with a stomach full of sickening dread and a dollar raise and you knew, in your heart of hearts, that if you left now or anytime soon, you were as good as dead. Maybe you were dead anyway. Rescue wouldn’t come. Not for you, not again. 

VII.

Hearing a gunshot in such close proximity wasn’t like in the movies. The sound tore through the air violently. It blasted your ears, leaving them ringing, making the ensuing commotion sound like it was happening under water. You weren’t supposed to be here, but you’d left your coat and had keys to the back door so you thought it would be okay. If you had just grabbed your coat and left, it would have been fine. But you heard the shouting and-

The sound of a gun cleared some things up, at least. 

You weren’t sure what came over you, what could have possibly compelled you to investigate. It was as if your body wasn’t your own, as if you were merely operating something mechanical as you peered into the front of the restaurant from the dark kitchen. The lights were on, the warm lights that fought to be inviting against Gotham’s gloom. The place was clean and empty. Everything was where it should have been. 

Almost everything. 

Blood splattered the white tile floor in a gruesome spray, dripping from the red vinyl seats and beading up on the plastic tabletop. Mr. Anthony slumped in his chair, his body limp and doughy chin bulging out over his shirt collar. A half eaten piece of pie sat in front of him. There was nothing dramatic about it, really. It wasn’t like you could see his soul exit through his eyes or anything. They just stared.

Hector, a familiar face by now, was the one holding a gun. Several other men were in the room. As soon as you were noticed, all of them had their guns trained on you. 

“I’m sorry, I…” the words sounded distant, even if you were the one to speak them. For the first time since you moved to Gotham, all you heard was silence. It was the most dreadful sound you had ever heard. 

“You’re the waitress,” Hector finally said. He was the only one not pointing his gun at you. Instead, he raised a hand, beckoning you closer. “Come here.” 

That wasn’t the sort of order someone refused, not when you had three guns pointed directly at your chest. You didn’t think you would be capable of running anyway. On heavy, trembling legs, you slowly trudged forward, trying to avoid eye contact with your dead boss. His blood was forming a big stain on the front of his suit, pooling on the floor. “There’s no need to be frightened.” Hector waved his hand, motioning for the men to put their guns down. 

“I’m sorry,” you said again, your voice somewhat more clear because the magnitude of the situation was setting in and, although surreal, pragmatism had to kick in like it always had, self preservation lending you some steel.

“Your boss spoke very highly of you,” Hector said, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder. Everything within you demanded you slap his hand off of you, that you lash out against the unwanted touch. But you didn’t, you couldn’t. “He said you’re smart, that he could trust you.” 

“I…” Your eyes returned to Mr. Anthony. He wasn’t moving, just slumped to the side, eyes wide open.

“No, don’t look at him,” Hector scolded, shaking your shoulder a little. When your eyes met his in fear of the slight violence, he released you. “I feel bad for you, I really do. This is an unfortunate situation.” He sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. “But I think I can make it work.” 

“I won’t tell anyone,” you told him. “I won’t, I’ll-” 

“No, no,” Hector said. “There’s no need for that. I want you to tell everyone about this. You’re going to call the police and tell them exactly what happened.” He looked past you, at one of his men. “Is the place clean?”

“Yeah, they won’t find anything.” 

“Good, good.” Hector met your eyes. “Now, you’re going to call the police. You tell the opperator that you witnessed a murder, okay? They’ll come with their police cars and paramedics and all that, and they’re going to take you to the station to get your statement.” 

“I-”

“Don’t talk, just listen,” Hector told you. “Here’s what you’re going to tell them-”

“I didn’t see them when I came in, but I could hear them through the window between the front and back,” you told the officer, your voice wobbling, fresh tears tracking through the caked salt on your cheeks. People described shock as a numbing agent, as escapism, but you didn’t think you had ever been so aware of yourself than in that moment. Aware of sweat dripping down your neck, aware of the sour taste on the back of your tongue, aware of the unsteadiness of your breathing, the racing of your heart. “I forgot my coat and so I came back to get it, I didn’t think anything of it.”

“What happened after that?” she asked, taking down your statement in a little notebook. The interview was being held in an office and they’d given you a can of soda from the vending machine. You were a witness. A victim. 

“They didn’t notice me,” you said. “They-”

“They?” she prompted, cutting you off.

You swallowed hard, a lump forming in your throat no matter how hard you fought it. “Mr. Anthony a-and Ace. The cook. I-I think his name is Payton… I don’t know, we only ever called him Ace.” 

“How do you know it was them?” she asked. 

“Their voices. I work with Ace almost every day, and see Mr. Anthony at least three times a week, I could recognize them anywhere.”

“Did you hear anyone else?” 

“No.”  

“And what were they doing?” 

“Arguing,” you said. “I knew I walked in something I shouldn’t see so I tried to be quick. I wasn’t looking and then I-I heard the gun go off.”

“What were they arguing about?” she asked. 

“I don’t know. It wasn’t my business.” You couldn’t keep the anger out of your tone at that. It wasn’t your business, so why were you involved? It wasn’t fair, and there was nothing you could do. Tell the police the truth and face the wrath of a famously sadistic criminal. Lie to the police and risk legal persecution. And that wasn’t even mentioning the fact that you were out of a job.

“You don’t remember anything they said?” the officer asked. The doubt in her tone made your stomach twist. Hector’s demands were clear. You either convinced the police of the fake story, pinning all of the blame on Ace, or else. Given his employer, you could only guess what ‘or else’ would mean. Your chest seized, your breathing becoming faster. 

“I don’t know,” you said, your voice trembling. “Ace has always been… He’s not a very nice guy, and he’s been acting strange lately. I knew he kept a gun on him. You know, for safety. We stay open pretty late. I knew that, but I never thought he’d actually… I mean, who does that sort of thing? Who could possibly…” 

The officer nodded consolingly. Did that mean she believed you? “You’re okay, hon. We’re almost done. After the gun went off, what did you do?”

“I hid,” you told her. That’s what you should have done. You could almost imagine the scene in your head. The two of them arguing, the gunshot, ducking beneath the counter to hide with sweat soaking your clothes and terror squeezing your heart. “I heard him going through Mr. Anthony’s office, and then he came into the kitchen to leave through the back.” 

“He didn’t see you?” 

“No, I was hiding under the counter and it was… it was dark.” 

“When he left, did you get a good look at him?” 

“No, it was dark,” you repeated. “But when he opened the door, there was enough light from outside that I could see his coat. It’s really big, kinda tan. He’s the only guy I know who wears something like that.” Pressed against your thighs, your hands trembled violently. “Mr. Anthony was always nice to me,” you said. You didn’t mean to, it just bubbled out. “His wife left him recently, I think they’ve got kids too.”

She nodded again, giving you a sympathetic look. “Okay, honey. You’re okay. Is there anything else you can think of?” You shook your head, wiping your face with the tissues she’d pushed towards you. “I’ll give you my personal phone number, just in case you remember something.” 

You accepted her card with the work phone number and hastily scribbled personal number. “Thank you,” you said with a pathetic sniffle, disgust for your lies and terror twisting your insides, fear that they would figure out the lie striking hotter than guilt. Just like that, with one conversation, you ensured that one man’s murderer would go free and another man’s life was ruined. 

VIII.

Everything was wet. Negotiating an armful of groceries alongside an umbrella had been impossible, so you entered your apartment dripping and miserable and scared. Even going to the store for an hour or so had your anxiety spiking, you spent the entire time looking behind yourself, terrified that you would be arrested or attacked at any minute. 

Feet squelching with every step, you set the bags on the kitchen counter. Just the essentials. And a bottle of vodka. Nasty stuff, but effective. With any hope, enough of it would force you to pass out. After being awake for nearly two days without sleep, you would have thought your body would simply give out, but your brain wouldn’t let you. You ignored the rest of the groceries and opened up the bottle, uncaring of the puddle forming beneath your feet, and took a swig. Foul, but it lit a somewhat pleasant fire in your belly. You took another drink. It sloshed into your stomach like poison and dizzied your head. Drinking on an empty stomach was never a good idea, but you ran out of good ideas years ago.

You didn’t notice anything amiss. Your guard was well and truly down as you stumbled into your room, shucking the boots and tossing your soaked clothes into the hamper. It would have been better to shower the filthy scent of Gotham rain out of your hair, but instead you just covered your wet skin with a pair of pajamas and called it good, ready to self medicate.��

No, you didn’t notice anything amiss. Every sound was covered by the groan of the ancient radiator and broken down refrigerator, by the cars outside and voices down the hall. You didn’t even feel the discomfort you occasionally had that someone had been in your apartment. 

Somebody grabbed you from behind. 

It happened just like that, no time to think or to process or to understand what was happening. 

“Considering the trouble you’re in, you really oughta lock your door,” he said, his voice slightly muffled. The piercing scream that left your mouth was covered by a hand. Big hand. Big man. Muscular arms crushed you against a solid, armored chest, one on your face and the other easily pinning your arms. It didn’t matter that you thrashed and screamed, he didn’t so much as budge. When you tried to bash your head against his face, the back of your skull made contact with a hard mask. “Don’t get so worked up, okay? I’m not here to hurt you.” 

His words didn’t register, his voice like distant thunder in your head. Alarm bells screeched in your mind attacking the sore spot where your skull had met his mask, and the only thing you could do was struggle with all your strength, staring ahead at the comfortable familiarity of your living room and thinking that you didn’t want to die.

“C’mon, calm down a little, will you?” he said, seemingly put out with your antics. Ignoring him, you only redoubled your efforts. He let out a grunt when you kicked him, although it seemed more surprised than pained, his arms tightening around you to the point of suffocation. “Look, I didn’t want to scare you, but I can’t have you waking up the whole building.”

You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe. There was something very hard pressing into your thigh and you didn’t think it was because he was happy to see you. Some part of your brain, the part that attempted rationality, recognized that you weren’t going to physically escape. Liquor and bile sat heavy on the back of your tongue, you worried you would choke on it.

“There you go,” your attacker said warmly as your energy drained and you stilled, his grip loosening somewhat now that you weren’t struggling like a wild animal. “Now I’m gonna let you go, and you’re not gonna do anything stupid.”

Breathing hard through your nostrils, you grunted in assent. 

“‘Cause if you try anything,” he warned, “I’ll be very upset.”

Another grunt. Now that panic wasn’t so blindingly overpowering, you were aware of what this situation was. The danger you were in. His arms tightened for a moment, although not in an aggressive way. It felt more like a fleeting embrace.

When he released you, you didn’t scream, twisting away and putting as many stumbling steps between the two of you as possible. “I didn’t tell anybody,” you told him before even thinking about the words. “I wouldn’t, I-” 

Recognition panged in your head like a bell as soon as you got a decent look at your attacker. For a moment, your brain scrambled, words failing you as you tried to process what you were looking at. Well, who you were looking at. The symbol on his chest was painted in red, but it was shaped like the bat symbol. The hero of Gotham. But he had guns, he couldn’t be. Besides, Batman—Bruce Wayne—was dead. 

“You’re…” you said, trailing off in a confused loop of thought. You didn’t really  understand what was happening, it was like reality had caused your system to crash. “You’re not Batman.”

“What gave it away?” he asked, his muffled voice sarcastic. You had no answer to that, just the angry pulse of adrenaline and terror and confusion. “It’s good to see you,” he said after a moment, taking a step towards you. “Up close, I mean.”

“What? Who are you?” Once you could look past the red bat symbol on his chest, he was dressed casually. Tactically, you supposed, with some light body armor and weaponry, but with a red hooded jacket and equally red mask that covered his whole face.

“You don’t remember me?” he asked. “And I thought we hit it off so well.” 

“I think you’ve got the wrong person,” you told him. Despite your terrible memory, you would definitely remember meeting some masked criminal dressed like a dead icon.  

“Nope, you’re exactly who I wanted to see,” he said. “Now why don’t you take a seat. You look like you’re about to pass out, and I’d like to talk.” 

Mind whirling with panic and uncertainty, you considered your options. It was difficult. Drinking hadn’t been a good decision, the liquor drifted like fog in your head, confusing your ability to process everything. 

“You need to leave,” you finally said, the tremble in your voice giving away your nerves. “Right now, you need to-” 

“Come on,” he said, cutting you off. “You know how this goes, so let’s skip the part where you antagonize the guy with a gun.” 

The urge to argue further occurred to you, but the words weren’t there. You had to be reasonable about this. If you cooperated, maybe you could find an advantage. Or talk your way out. If he had been here solely to assault you, why would he have let you go? The weight of his body against your own, the strength with which he held you, lingered like phantom pains. It would have been easy for him to force you down, to hurt you. To kill you. So easy. 

You sat woodenly on your couch, eying the man warily as he crossed the room into your tiny little kitchen. Well, a counter, stove, and refrigerator shoved into the corner of the main room of your small apartment.  

“Smirnoff, really?” he asked, picking up the bottle and inspecting it. Although you couldn’t see his face, you could hear the playful disgust in his voice. You didn’t say anything, watching him open your fridge and emerge with a bottle of water. He tossed it over. You barely managed to snatch it from the air before it fell onto the floor. “Try and sober up a little.” 

While you didn’t really want to follow his instructions, you had also become aware of an awful case of dry mouth. He leaned against the counter while you took a few small sips. Although you couldn’t see his eyes, you got the distinct impression he was staring at you. The world hadn’t fallen silent, but it was all muffled. Far away. Your neighbors talked loudly, your old appliances droned, and cars passed outside, but none of it mattered. You may as well have been in a different world. 

“You were so talkative last time,” he said as the silence dragged on. “I’m starting to think you’re not happy to see me.” 

“I have no idea who you are,” you told him. 

“Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t,” he allowed. “I’ll show you. But it’ll have to be our little secret, okay?” 

You didn’t expect him to remove the mask, let alone do so in a nonchalant way. The mask made a distinct mechanical sound as he removed it, setting the piece aside and tossing his hood back. And that face was familiar. Mostly, you just remembered that scar, a crude J engraved on his cheek. You blinked, confusion making you doubt what you were seeing. It didn’t make any sense that the mysterious customer from weeks ago could be standing in your apartment.

“The pie was delicious, by the way,” he said casually, running his fingers through his hair to keep it pushed back. “I can see why it’s your favorite.” 

That’s right. You thought you were being so cute for doing that, like you were some sort of philanthropist. It was borderline incomprehensible trying to merge your memory of that single interaction with what was happening now. The customer you awkwardly flirted with was an armored, armed man with the symbol of a dead hero on his chest. You had been genuinely upset that he never came back after that night, thought about him for at least a week after, but this wasn’t what you had in mind for a second meeting. 

“It’s you,” you muttered softly, too shocked to be defensive.

“Surprised? It’s been awhile, I know. I’ve been busy.” 

“Why are you here?” 

“Why do you think?” he asked derisively. When you didn’t respond, he lightened up a bit. “Look, I’ve shown you mine, so why don’t you show me yours? Tell me who killed Frank Anthony.” 

You regretted drinking, that question alone making you think you were about to be violently ill. “You’re with the police, aren’t you.”

“Do I look like a cop?” he asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow. No, he didn’t. Hector warned you about this sort of thing. The Bat, he said, might have been dead, but there were always those willing to do the same sort of work. If you squealed, you were worse than dead.

“I already told the police what happened,” you said, your stomach tying itself in increasingly painful knots. 

“Yeah, you gave them quite the story.” 

“No.” You shook your head. “It’s the tru-” 

“Don’t,” he said loudly, aggressively cutting you off, “lie to me.” The rapid shift in tone had you flinching away, your water bottle dropping hard to the floor as you got to your feet to put more distance between the two of you. He had a look in his blue eyes that made you think he wasn’t entirely sane, and it chased away any hope that you could talk your way out of this. 

“I want you to leave,” you told him, your fists clenched and shoulders tight, fueled by fear. Fear, and anger. Helpless rage at how awful this situation was, how unfair.   

“What are you going to do if I don’t?” he asked, eying you up with a decidedly unimpressed expression, that flare of temper gone. “Fight me? Call for help?”

You didn’t say anything, realizing with a fresh wave of impotent indignation how helpless you were. 

“Guess you’re stuck with me then,” he said, playful again, pushing away from the counter to sit on the other side of the couch. You watched him make himself comfortable, arms spread across the seatback and legs relaxed. Even like this, standing above him, you felt weak. He gave you a look. “What? C’mon, sit down.”  You didn’t, even though standing there was beginning to feel horribly uncomfortable. “Are you seriously…? You’re not going to make this easy, are you.” 

“Sorry to disappoint,” you said, putting as much venom in your voice as possible.  

He smiled. “I never said I was disappointed. But if you really wanna seem tough, you should relax a little.”

You set your jaw, folding your arms. 

“Fine, I’ll start,” he said, maintaining that disturbingly casual voice. “I didn’t give you my name last time. I’m Jason. Might wanna remember that for later.” 

“Jason… Have you got a last name too?” you asked, not thinking so much about what you were saying as you were on portraying the only form of strength you had. 

Jason shot you a sideways look. “Why?”

“You know, for the police report.” It had been a stupid thing to say in the first place, you knew that, but it didn’t get the reaction you wanted either. Jason just smiled, amused with your attempted wit. 

“While you’re in there, are you gonna tell them what a bad girl you’ve been?”

It took you a moment, your thoughts catching on his uncomfortable wording, but then it clicked. “Do they know something?” you asked faintly, your head spinning with sickening anxiety. 

“‘Course not,” Jason said. “Why do you think we’re talking here and not at the station? I figured it was better this way. You did something stupid, but you can still make it right. I’m happy to help. All you have to do is tell me what I want to know.”

“Help me?” you asked incredulously. “You break into my home and threaten me and you think you can-”

“I haven’t threatened you,” he said loudly, stopping you. “Yet.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” you told him, forcing bravado to cover for your terror. There was no way out of this. Between a rock and a hard place, anything you did would be the wrong decision and it wasn’t fair. That bubbled out, your helpless anger coming through in a sharp tone. “I can’t tell you what I don’t know.” 

“I was hoping we could avoid this, but…” Jason scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You can’t say I didn’t try to be nice. You’ve never been one to go for the nice guys though, have you.” Before you could respond, he stood up and grabbed you by the front of your shirt, pulling you off balance and up. Jason kept you suspended as you squirmed, although you stopped struggling pretty quick when he drew his gun and pressed it to your neck. It wasn’t like Ace’s gun, which may as well have been a toy in comparison to the weapon Jason held at your throat. The barrel was blocky and huge, you weren’t even sure it could reasonably be counted as a handgun. 

“Okay, princess, from the top. Tell me who your boss was working for.” 

Survival instinct dictated you cooperate, but the stubborn need for defiance kept you from speaking. The selfsame urge that got you in trouble, that made you want to have the last word when you argued and destroyed your life as you continuously made bad choices. This was the second time you had guns drawn on you, and for what? So you just looked at him, met those pretty blue eyes with the worst type of resolve. The petty kind. 

“I don’t know.” 

Jason jerked you up higher, the fabric of your shirt straining painfully against your skin. “Try again,” he told you, his voice low and dangerous.  

“Even if I tell you, it won’t matter,” you said, your voice jumping an octave in fear. “You’re wasting your time.”   

Jason considered that for a long moment before nodding, his expression softening and grip loosening. “You’re right, this is a waste of time,” he agreed. You hoped, for a second, that he was going to put you down. Instead, he hauled you up higher, your toes barely finding purchase on the floor until you hit the wall with a heavy exhale. It was nothing for him to keep you pinned against there, a muscular thigh pressed between your legs. The straps keeping his gun holster in place dragged roughly against the yielding fabric of your pajama shorts, adding a layer of friction that made you shudder, flinching back but unable to go anywhere. The barrel of his gun nudged beneath the hem of your shirt, seeking the warm skin beneath. 

“Stop,” you demanded, but your voice was without bite, without air. Jason hardly budged when you weakly pushed against him. “You have to let me go right now or-”

“Sweetheart, babe, princess,” Jason cooed, cutting you off. Agonizingly slow, the gun’s cold muzzle continued to drag up over your abdomen, over your stomach. Chills chased behind the weapon’s metal kiss, your entire body so tense you trembled. “Look at yourself. Do you really think you’ve got any say in what I can or can’t do?” 

“What are you going to do then?” you asked, terrified to look up and meet his eyes and terrified to look away. Terrified of the gun skimming your ribs and terrified of your body’s conflicted reaction because the horror of the threat only registered so much in comparison to his proximity, the twisted sensuality of it all.  

“I’m not sure yet,” Jason said. “But I’m telling you right now that there are only two things I wanna hear from you. You can give me what I want, the truth this time, or…” 

You didn’t want to ask, but you knew he was waiting for it, waiting for you to take the bait. “Or?” you finally breathed. The gun was pressed cold and hard right beneath the band of your bra, a stark contrast to the heat of his body right against yours. 

“My name,” he said. “In my line of work, we don’t usually use ‘em. But I kinda like the idea of you screaming mine.” In isolation, the words might have come off as obnoxiously cocky, but Jason didn’t sound cocky. There was a needful insistence in his voice that undermined the obvious flirtation and that’s where this situation was going anyway, gun or no, he was just pushing it over the edge. 

“Jason-” 

“Yeah, like that. Maybe a little louder though.” The gun was gone, but you didn’t have time to respond to the lack of threat. Jason’s gloved hand was rough on your chin, pulling your face up towards his. You pushed against him, but it was a weak struggle. Ineffective.

Jason kissed you and it was violent, biting teeth and his tongue pushing past your wet lips. He kissed you like he was trying to prove something, like he was hungry. It had been awhile since you kissed anyone, but you fell into place pretty easily. Besides, it wasn’t the type of kiss that was returned so much as it was the type that you submitted to. His mouth tasted like mint and you wondered if that was on purpose, if he had prepared for this. 

You were still reeling by the time he pulled away, catching your bottom lip between his teeth before releasing it, the final touch of pain making you shiver despite yourself. 

“That stuff is seriously disgusting, I have no idea how you stomach it,” he said, a smile in his voice that didn’t match the tone of the situation. “You don’t really care about quality though, do you?” His breathing was harsh and the non-question was ironic. You didn’t respond, too stunned. Hoping, maybe, that if you didn’t engage, it would cease to be real. “Well?” Jason prompted. “Which is it?”

“Stop,” you said. Unable to meet his eye, unable to move. He wanted you. Your stomach twisted and you should have been fighting like your life depended on it. But something about it all was just incomprehensible, you couldn’t parse why this was happening. That this was happening to you.   

“That’s not what I asked, but that’s fine,” he said casually. “Take your time, I’ll just-” 

Jason gripped you by the hips and turned the both of you around so he could lift you onto the counter. Things toppled the ground, papers and random junk you’d accumulated crashing down. The ease with which he manhandled you was vertigo inducing, making you yelp, limbs flailing in an attempt to get your balance. 

He didn’t give you a chance to protest, pulling your shirt up and over your head and arms. Your bra was discarded with the same fervor. Jason didn’t take the time to look at you, his mouth seeking skin. Your neck, your collar bones, your breasts, he hungrily left wet kisses and searing bites down your skin, stopping only when he reached your nipples. Overly sensitive with stress and fear, your body tensed as if electrified, a high pitched sound leaving your mouth in surprise. His tongue was hot, but the scrape of teeth was really what had you squirming, gasping, unable to think. Your thighs clenched hard, attempting to close but obstructed by his hips. 

“No, n-no,” you told him, panicked and pulling at his hair because this was too far. The line had been crossed already, you knew it was ridiculous to object now when the whole situation had spiraled so far out of your control, but you had to do something. Jason just groaned, pulling back to look at you. 

“What did I say?” he asked. 

You shook your head, caught between the strangest sense of embarrassment to have someone looking at you and cold dread at where this was heading. “You can’t-” 

“I gave you two options. Otherwise, I don’t wanna hear it.” To make his point, he cruelly pinched your nipple, the one he’d left wet and sensitive. All you could do was groan as he leaned down to do the same to the other, knowing that you weren’t putting up enough of a fight and hating yourself for it. 

There was no escapism to the confusing, vile stirrings of lust. You were painfully aware of yourself and what was happening, your legs kicking out and body writhing unconsciously at the pleasurable sensations. You wished you weren’t cognizant of what was happening, you wished you had some excuse, some reason to submit to this that wasn’t plain weakness, some messed up acceptance of what he was doing. But then he bit down, rolling your nipple between his teeth, and it hurt and you moaned loud, unable to contain the way your hips ground against him and you knew that even if you weren’t reciprocating, you were still complicit.

Jason pulled away from your nipple with a slick, dirty sound. His hand pushed between your thighs, forcing them to spread further so he could rub his hand over the pajama shorts you still wore. You squealed, the pressure of his palm grinding right between your legs bringing some form of sense back into your head. And you didn’t mean to hit him, not really. But you did, your palm meeting his cheek. The sharp sound made you flinch, your breath catching in surprise. Jason looked a little surprised too, leaning back to look at you. 

“Seriously?” he asked. 

“I-I’m so-”

“I warned you about antagonizing the guy with a gun.”

“No, I-I’m not-” 

“I swear, it’s like you’re incapable of self preservation,” Jason said, unholstering his gun again and pressing it to your cheek. 

“Stop,” you told him, but your bravado was anemic at best. Breathless, and not just just because of the gun, although you were horribly aware of the metallic scent and its coldness biting into your skin. Fear wasn’t the only thing making it difficult to think.

“Is that really what you want?” he asked, his eyes alight with humor and knowing. “Cause, I’ve gotta be honest, that’s not what it looks like. Maybe this is what you wanted all along, creeping through those back streets in the middle of the night. No wonder you weren’t scared.” 

“That’s not true,” you told him.

“Oh yeah? Then tell me what I’ll find under these cute little shorts. I’ve got a feeling it’s not going to be disinterest.”

At this point, you weren’t sure you could even tell him he was wrong. Your nipples were stiff and your skin was covered with chills, you didn’t doubt that you were wet too. “I thought…” you said, scrambling for some change of subject, some distraction. “I thought you just wanted me to tell you-”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get what I want,” Jason assured you. “But there’s nothing wrong with a guy taking pleasure in his work.” He didn’t give you any more time to think or argue as he roughly pushed your shorts and panties down your hips to get them out of the way. It forced you to lean back, catching yourself on your hands so you could support your torso. Even if the gun was a hollow threat—and you thought it had to be considering his finger wasn’t on the trigger—it was effective. You whined in distress at the idea of him seeing you, seeing all of you. 

“Don’t,” you muttered, a pathetic objection that did nothing to give him pause. 

“Goddamn,” Jason muttered, his big hand flattening against your abdomen, dragging down. The material of his glove was rough against your skin, cool and inhuman. 

“Don’t,” you whined again, trying to squeeze your thighs together, unable to meet his eyes. Not that he was looking at your face anyway. 

“You know, I was fine just watching, making sure that you were okay,” Jason told you, almost earnestly. “The idea of you going out on your own in the middle of the night… the things people could do to you… I couldn’t stop thinking about it after I left. I had to make sure.” 

“You’ve been… watching me?” you asked. 

“And I was fine with it,” he emphasized, “but you had to go and misbehave.” He used his teeth to pull off the fingers of his glove so he could toss it aside. His skin was hot on yours when he pried your thighs apart further. When you struggled, he just pressed the muzzle of the gun even harder against you, dragged it down against your throat. By now, the metal was warm with your body heat. 

“You’ve been watching me?” you asked again, your voice gaining a bit more strength. 

“I’ve been protecting you,” Jason said, his voice lowering. “I hired someone to get you out of the city safely. When a couple of drunk idiots tried to follow you home, I’m the one who stopped them. And I admit, I was pretty pissed when I heard about what you did, but now… now I see the advantages.” He paused, his hand creeping up your thigh. He let out a surprised little laugh when his fingers pushed past your outer lips, skimming your entrance in a way that made your entire body lurch towards him, arms nearly giving out. “Damn, now who’s wet.” 

“Jason,” you meant it to be an admonishment, but your voice raised an octave with surprise when his fingers grazed up over your clit. You tensed up, but it did nothing to stop his fingers from driving into you, to stop your inner walls from squeezing his fingers as if to pull them deeper in spite of the horror of what he was saying. It wasn’t difficult at all, you were embarrassingly wet for him and all he had to do was push you down with the muzzle of the gun to keep you from fighting. 

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked, curling his fingers. “Feels good to know that somebody cares about you so much.” 

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut in a half hearted attempt to block out his words, to ignore what was happening. It didn’t work. There was nowhere to go away from him, away from this. 

“I know how alone you feel. I know what you want, what you need.” He punctuated that word with a harsh thrust. You couldn’t fathom what he was saying. It didn’t make sense, your brain was on fire. He slowly pulled his fingers out, curling them against your walls to make your mouth fall open wordlessly, a little mewl leaving you before you bit your lip.

He was insane. But you already knew that. He was also right. You already knew that too. You were fairly sure you were insane as well, what other reason could there be for the way your body was responding to him?

Swearing under his breath, Jason wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you against him, his fingers setting a fast pace, your body jolting with each heavy thrust. The fabric of his clothes was rough, a reminder of how helplessly exposed you were in comparison to him. His mouth dropped to your neck, kissing and licking the sensitive skin there before biting down hard enough to make you cry out, your body writhing against his. He was wearing some sort of body armor, it made it difficult to find purchase on his back as your hands grasped at him, searching for something to hold onto. Eventually, your fingers entangled in his hair. He groaned low, adding a third finger. 

The far away rational part of your mind was aware enough to recognize how embarrassing the endless stream of high pitched moans and whines leaving your mouth were, but it was as automatic as the way your pussy squeezed his fingers, sucking them deeper, begging for more no matter how rough he was. Beyond your control, just like everything else. 

“Jason…” His name was a plea, a prayer, breathless and needy and pathetic. 

“A little louder, princess,” Jason responded.  

You whined, pressing your lips together in an attempt to stifle yourself. He laughed, cool air puffing against your wet skin. 

“It’s cute that you think I can’t make you.” 

Jason pulled his fingers out and released you, swiveling you around on the counter so you could fall flat on your back. More things crashed to the floor, the bottle of vodka shattering loudly after it toppled. He kept you from fighting with the gun, pressing it beneath your chin so you had no choice but to lay flat. Spread beneath him with your legs wide open like a meal. 

“Fuck, you really are…” Jason muttered under his breath, eying you hungrily. He didn’t finish the thought, licking his lips. “Goddamn.”

The gun was pushed so hard against you it was certain to leave indents in your skin, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care when he leaned down and traced his tongue over your clit. The not-enough teasing sensation pulled an entire body shudder from you, your legs twitching and hips jumping against him, thighs straining as they tried to decide whether to close or open. Your hands scrambled indecisively, reaching out and holding onto the counter’s lip with a white knuckle grip and your back arching in a taut bow. 

When he pushed three fingers into you, curling and scissoring them, it was all you could do not to shout. Jason was relentless, not caring to try and build you back up slowly. Your body was all too accepting, the rough pace he’d set was pushing you over the edge fast. You whimpered when his tongue, wet and velvety, licked from the place his fingers thrust into you all the way up, and that became a long, reedy cry when his lips closed and he sucked. 

Pleasure coiled so hot in your core, stoked to a terrible blaze beneath his touch, and you could have wept at how badly you wanted to get off, straining for release mindlessly, helplessly. 

“Jason, I can’t-” Too loud, you knew it was too loud but you also knew that was the only way you were going to get what you needed. And it was need. Dire, catastrophic. “Jason, please. Jason-” 

Right there, right on the tipping edge of release, Jason pulled back. You whined unhappily, your hips desperately trying to chase his fingers. He held you in place, pressing the flat of the gun against your abdomen to push you down as he pulled his fingers out with a slick noise. “Sweetheart,” he said, “look at me.” You thought of refusing, but complied after a moment, humiliation dulled by need. Jason’s cheeks were pink, his lips flushed red. His expression sent a shuddery jolt of desire through you, intense and hungry and focused and far more composed than you were. “Tell me his name.”

His name. It took you a moment, given that you were of a fairly singular mind. But you figured it out eventually. Panting, flushed, drenched red with lust, you shook your head. 

“No, no, no, listen,” he scolded, grabbing your chin with fingers that smelled like you, that were wet because of you. In a way, the touch was more threatening than the gun. Jason’s eyes were bright, a complete contrast to the way yours felt fogged over. “Tell me, and I’ll bring you his head. That’s a promise.” 

His tone should have been frightening. Maybe, in a way, it was. All steel and fire and raw honesty, you didn’t doubt that he would make good on that threat. But you weren’t afraid. You had enough will power to refuse again, you knew how easy it would be to close your eyes and turn away from him. Gun and teasing and desire and fear and all, you’d endured worse for less. But to what end? For what purpose? You were already ruined, already as good as dead. 

In the worst part of yourself, you felt if you didn’t reciprocate, if you didn’t give back when he’d done something for you, that would be rude. 

“He’s the one who thinks he’s a-a god. Maxie Zeus or whatever,” you said, your voice hoarse. “His guy, Hector, that’s who… Christ…” You pulled against his wrist and shook your head, trying to banish the memory. “Mr. Anthony was bringing in goods for him, but I don’t know what happened, or why he… I don’t know.” 

Jason stood up. “Seriously? That freak?” he asked, an incredulous laugh in his voice. “I didn’t realize he was still kicking around... What are you doing?”

He pushed you back down to keep you from squirming away like you were attempting. “I told you,” you said, your voice faint, “so we’re…” 

“We’re what? Even? Not even close.”  

“But I… Let me go.” You pushed at him, tried to close your legs, although you knew your heart wasn’t in it. 

“Nuh-uh, princess. You’re not getting out of this that easy.”

“But I told you!” 

“Yeah, after lying about it right to my face. Did you think you were gonna get away with that?” He paused, giving you another once-over. “Besides, I can’t leave a job half done. It’s not in my nature.” 

You didn’t have to ask what he meant by that, Jason pushed his fingers back into you and you had to bite off your groan, your body spasming at the touch. He wasn’t hurried at first, watching you toss your head back in frustration, resisting the urge to grind against his hand as you made a half hearted attempt to come up with the words for why you couldn’t do this, why he needed to stop.  

Nothing came out, ultimately. You were too afraid that he’d listen if you told him to stop, it was better to say nothing, to cling to the pleasure as a lifeline of insanity. 

“You’re real cute like this,” Jason praised you with an indulgent mixture of sarcasm and affection. You weren’t aware of the gun being gone until you realized his other hand was free to nudge against your clit. Playfully, at first. Then with more focus, rubbing against it with hard, maddening little circles. You whimpered, then whined, your cunt squeezing his fingers as they tortured your inner walls. The pace he’d set was speeding up in time with the rising swell of heat, that coil of tension within you approaching a feverish pitch. “Reminds me of one of the first things you said to me. What was it?” He paused as if to think, jolting your body with a harder thrust that you could hear. “Oh yeah, I remember,” Jason continued, paying no mind to your sharp cry. “You’re dripping everywhere.” 

A despairing sort of groan came from your throat at that, but his tone sunk deep into your core and the pleasure of each wet, slick thrust was growing intolerably good, pushing you right back to the brink. Jason spoke like this was supposed to be some sort of punishment, but the way he fucked his fingers into you, the way he rubbed your clit, was anything but. 

It didn’t take much from there. The hyper aroused state of awareness made your comprehension of how utterly debased it all was that much hotter, lust redefining the grotesque as helplessly attractive. You were getting close, your body straining for release desperately, your hips meeting each thrust, grinding against his fingers. 

“Don’t stop,” you begged. “Please, don’t…” 

“Are you gonna be good and ask me nicely?”

“Please, Jason… God, please.”

“Sure, why not,” he said. In contrast to the lackadaisical tone, his fingers curled, seeking out that spongy spot inside of you that made your legs twitch and kick, an unnaturally high mewl accomining the reaction. A few more torturous passes just like that was all it took to well and truly send you tumbling, your muscles tightening and pussy tightening, gushing around his hand as you came. Afraid he would pull away before you were finished, you grabbed his hand, keeping him against your clit as your hips ground down on his fingers. Jason let it happen, indulging you until the pleasure had run its course of heat and mindless frenzy.  

Then you sagged, letting him go and staring up at the ceiling with glassy eyes, hot and breathing hard. He pulled his fingers out, another uncomfortably wet sound. There was a joke to be made in the fact that the first guy who made you come was the one who did it with a gun at your throat, but you couldn’t find the words. It wasn’t all that funny in the first place. 

The sound of something unclicking pulled your eyes down to Jason. He wasn’t paying any attention to you, working on his clothes. It was completely unfair that while you were all the way bared to his eyes, he was still dressed. Not even dressed—armed.

“Worst part about this job is the outfits,” Jason muttered, clearly annoyed as he unclipped the holsters around his thighs so he could put the weapons on the counter. The hoodie went next, but there was still something bulky beneath his shirt, probably the armor you’d felt earlier. 

“Least you brought protection,” you muttered. 

Jason grinned, looking up at you with bright, excited eyes. “And you say you’re not funny.” The last to go was his belt and its assortment of ammo, set aside with the guns. “That’ll have to be good enough… Sorry, babe, show and tell’ll have to wait ‘til next time.” 

That playful comment went right over your head as he unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his cock. He ran a hand down its length, eyes devouring your body. It was disappointing that you wouldn’t get to see all of him, but it was difficult to focus on that considering what he was showing you anyway. 

“What do you want me to do?” you asked softly, frozen between the embarrassment and the shameless way your pussy squeezed down around nothing, given a pretty good idea of how deep inside of you he would go from the way he was positioned between your legs. The circumstances, the disaster, that had gotten you here didn’t matter. Jason was hard for you, looking at you with dangerously dark eyes. 

“Hold on tight,” Jason said, giving no further warning as he scooped you up off the table and turned around, pushing you against the wall again. You yelped in surprise, doing exactly as you were told with your arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders, legs clamping around his waist. There was no gun pointed at your head, but the easy way he hauled you into place made it moot anyway. Jason would have just as easy of a time snapping your neck as he would pulling the trigger, the gun was just for show. 

“I have a bed,” you pointed out, a bit of anxiety trickling through everything else you felt because having sex was one thing, but being fucked upright against a wall, helplessly clinging to his shoulders, was filthy. And that was before you realized that you could hear the sound of your neighbors TV vibrating in the wall at your back, a muffled laugh track mingling with the ringing in your ears. “This is… it’s a shared wall.”

“And?” Jason asked, keeping you in place as he lined himself up. The sensation of his cock pressing against your fluttering entrance was almost enough to make you give up. Almost. 

“They’ll… they’ll hear, we can’t-” 

“Not my problem,” he told you. Any further argument was driven from your mind as he pushed into you, your mouth dropping open dumbly, mind cleared out entirely by the weight and pressure as you sunk all the way down onto him. Jason groaned against your neck, grinding his hips against you so you could feel how deep he went, how full you were. Your inner walls fluttered around him, desperately trying to adjust to the delicious weight. Madly, you thought that if you could stay just like that forever, you would be glad for it. And then he pulled out, a little slow at first, making sure you could feel the drag and absence, before filling you all over again. You couldn’t hold back your cry, your body no longer belonged to you. And he did it again, it had to be on purpose. 

“Loud,” you whined, not sounding nearly as distressed as you probably should have. “Too loud, Jason...” 

He laughed breathlessly. “They’d better get used to it,” he said right into your ear. God, you couldn’t handle it. The way he said that, the way he accentuated the threat with a hard thrust, just made you whine, holding onto him even harder. 

“Jason-” His name slipped from your mouth without thinking, high and pathetic, the only thing you could think. A plea for mercy, for more, for him. 

“I know,” he told you, managing to sound cocky despite the breathless lust in his voice, his smile pressed against your neck before his teeth dug into the flesh there. His fingers kneaded your ass, grinding you onto his cock. Exhaustion, terror, alcohol, desire—all of it had been the perfect battering ram to get you here, your defenses shredded, your senses spirited away by mindless need. 

All you could do was hold on. Moan for him, beg for him. Each hard thrust pushed you up the wall, your back scraping against the textured paint. It might have hurt, were you not too distracted with the feeling of Jason inside of you, the head of his cock dragging against where you were most sensitive, going so deep you saw stars. You wished desperately that he were undressed so you could feel his skin against yours, but the material of his shirt rubbing against your sensitive nipples wasn’t so bad either, another point of friction. 

At the fever pitch point of abandon, it didn’t really matter that you were trying to muffle yourself, to choke down your cries and whimpers. The physical sound, the hard, rhythmic thump-thump-thump as he fucked you against the wall, the wet squish of each thrust, was suggestive even without you moaning like a whore over the top of it. And, fuck, it was hot. 

“You wanna come again, princess?” Jason asked. It was spoken like a question, but he didn’t wait for your response for his hand to sneak between your legs, easily finding your swollen clit. You yelped unintentionally, eyes snapping open. You definitely couldn’t handle that either. Being fucked like this bordered on overstimulation, to feel pleasure there too would break you. 

“Mmm, Jason…” you sounded breathless and cheap, shaking your head in an attempt to convey your burst of panic at the feeling and the drowning helplessness. There was nothing you could do to stop him, to stop yourself, regardless of what you wanted. “I can’t-” 

“Yeah, you do.”

Even if the excess stimulation had you whining and gasping and writhing like a creature possessed, you did, you wanted to come on his cock, to feel the way your cunt clamp down around him like a vice as you shook to pieces. 

He didn’t have to encourage you to say his name, it fell out between your helpless moans, your harsh breathing. Jason dropped wet kisses on your neck, your jaw, kissing your open mouth and biting your bottom lip until you pulled on his hair, encouraging you with all sorts of noises. None of your other partners had been vocal like this, letting you how much you affected them, how much they desired you. It was intoxicating in a way no liquor or drug ever had been, and far more addictive. 

Someone hit the wall behind you, a few harsh knocks of disapproval and some choice, if muffled, words. Jason laughed breathlessly, the air hot on your neck. “Whoops,” he said. 

As humiliating as the interruption was, it came too late. Jason didn’t so much as pause and your body was already shuddering apart, tipped over the edge by the sound of his amusement. At the very least, coming rendered you silent, nothing more than little gasping groans leaving your open mouth as you clung to him, your cunt spasming around his cock. That seemed to be amusing to him too, his grinding relentlessly against your clit in time with each hard thrust.

“Unbelievable,” he said as you came down from the high, far too pleased with himself. The TV on the other side of the wall was far louder now, you could hear the individual voices attempting to drown out your own. 

“Jason, ss-stop” you begged, shaking your head, the words tight with your attempt to keep them quiet. 

“I’m not the one on my way to waking up half of Gotham.”

You whined in distress, pushing at him. 

“Alright, alright,” he relented, pulling out and letting you fall to your feet. 

Before your weak legs had the chance to give out beneath you, Jason whirled you both around to bend you over the back of your couch. And then he was inside of you again, driving home in one hard thrust, and you let out a shameless moan, not even thinking to stifle it. Jason moaned low, the blunt fingernails of one hand digging into one hip and the harsh fabric of his glove scraping against the other. 

The different angle had you seeing stars. Jason was able to be even more rough like this too, holding onto your hips to drag you down to meet each violent thrust. You clawed at your couch, your back arching in a borderline painful bow as you rocked back and forth onto your toes. This was worse. He rutted into you like an animal and you responded in kind, making noises you hadn’t thought yourself capable of as his cock tortured your cunt, fucking you so hard it hurt as much as it felt mind blowingly good. Ultimately, there was no difference. 

“Jason…Jason-”

“Again?” he asked. “You really are a princess.” His hand dropped between your legs and you wailed, trembling and mewling and absolutely beyond the capacity to take more. It was almost impressive how quickly overstimulation played on your nerves as he rubbed your clit, bypassing pleasurable sensation to be interpreted as nothing more than raw electrical impulses telling your brain how to react. 

He wanted you to come, so you did. He wanted you to scream his name, so you did. Your pussy clamped down around him as you tensed up so hard your entire body trembled with strain, accepting the torture of exess because the only thing worse than coming would be to not. You weren’t given any chance to come down either, Jason using your involuntary response to chase his own pleasure. Nothing existed except the slapping of skin and the filthy squelching and the wicked harmony of harsh breathing and moans. He said your name once, twice, a reverence in it that you’d never heard. You arched your back, begging to take him deeper, to be used for his pleasure. His hips stuttered, his grip on your waist bruising. 

Jason pulled out at the last second with a helpless sound, the head of his cock bumping against your ass as he finished himself off. Thick, hot ropes of cum hit your back, his breathing harsh and erratic and half voice. Then he stilled, his fingers tracing down your side gently as he released you. 

You wilted against the back of the couch, acutely aware of the aching emptiness inside of you. Not just your pussy, but all the way in your core. The neighbor’s TV was still on at full blast, but your apartment was a haven of nothing more than heavy breathing and the scent of filthy, depraved sex. You expected Jason to step away, to fix his clothes and leave you exposed, locked in a pillory of exhaustion and shame until you could force your body to move again. 

“Can you stand up?” Jason asked instead. 

You thought about it for a second before deciding that you probably could. The motion was mechanical, awkward. His cum was cooling on your back, mingling with the sweat and making filthy trails as it dripped down. But you managed, standing and turning around. When you stumbled, legs trembling, a pair of strong arms caught you. Jason pulled you against him. Gently, at first, pushing your head down against his chest while he wrapped his arms around you. Even with the layers between your ear and his skin, you thought you could hear the strong thumping of his heart. 

“Do you need me to carry you to bed?” Jason asked, petting your sweaty hair. You couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not. 

“Are you going to leave?” you asked, your voice distant. It seemed like an important question, but your brain was too foggy to really understand why. 

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Jason said. Despite his casual tone, you didn’t miss the way his arms tightened around you, holding you even closer. “It’s more fun when those scumbags have time to get comfortable.”

You hummed in agreement. The wind howled outside your window, the wind and the rain. But it did not reach you, found no place in your empty head. 

“I’m tired,” you mumbled. 

“No kidding,” Jason said. Then he sighed, stepping back and releasing you. Only for a moment, only long enough to crouch down and sweep you up into his arms. That jolted you awake fast, but even the surprise was fleeting. At this point, you were exhausted to the point of pain, wrung out completely and utterly. “You’re lucky you’re so cute,” he told you. “Otherwise I’d say you’re more trouble than you’re worth.” 

“You too,” you said. And maybe you weren’t exactly as tired as you were telling yourself, maybe there was a very conscious part of you lurking in the back of your mind that understood how terrible and dangerous this situation was. But you muffled it, blinking drowsily as Jason carried you into your bedroom. 

Jason chuckled. “You should be more careful, princess. Saying things like that-” He exhaled harshly, nuzzling your head gently. “I just might not wanna let you go.” 

#batman arkham knight #arkhamverse #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd #red hood #dc #my writing #not sfw #tw.dubcon

[buckyscombatboots]

Monstertober Day 3:

The Scarecrow walks at midnight

Pairing: Scarecrow!Ari Levinson x Reader

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, serious Non con, death, mentions of blood, asphyxiation/choking, bruises (not the kinky kind), Beefy!Ari (6,8ft), size difference, held down, chasing, p in v

Nicknames: Song bird, birdie

Word count: 2.3k

༻𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭🎀 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫༺

AN: My apologies that this is a bit late, I had some health issues yesterday which really messed up my whole day. I ended up changing it from Headless horseman!Bucky to Scarecrow!Ari, because I had such bad writers block when trying to write it. I hope y’all enjoy and like all the Goosebumps references ♥︎

You pull up to The Stanley's farm, you’d know the Stanley’s for a long time. Everyone in this town knew everyone, that’s how it always been. Which is why, when Natasha sent you texts saying to come find her in a corn maze. You knew this was where she was talking about and despite the fact that it was technically closed right now, you knew the Stanley’s wouldn’t mind. You hopped out of the warmth of your car and into the autumn night. You loved the countryside, but you hated the fact that there were no lights. You only had the stars and the moon to guide you as you stumbled across the rocky path towards the corn maze.

It wasn’t far, you could see the sign, but you could also see a foreboding wooden cross standing outside the corn maze that you’d never seen before. You stopped in front of the wooden cross, running your fingers across the red paint chipping off the splintering wood. There’s nails with shreds of fabric still tangled around the posts; there was something hung up here at some point, a scarecrow more likely than not “The shity neighbourhood kids probably ripped it off” you huff “Always ruining everything, they threw paint in the plaza fountain only last week.” You drag your hand to the apex of the cross, it’s warm. Peculiar. You brush it off, despite your uncertainty, and look back at the text Natasha sent you.

I’m in the corn maze

Bet you can’t find me, scaredy-cat 👻🐈‍⬛

She had some nerve calling you a scaredy-cat, who in their right mind wouldn’t be scared to go alone into a bloody corn maze at midnight. It was pitch black, aside from the piercing light of the moon that parted the slate clouds that drifted across the inky, velvet blanket of the sky.

You stand infront of the en tree dance of the corn maze. It’s marked by an ornate metal sign, with chipping discoloured paint ‘Stanley’s Corn Maze’ it said in a faded orange paint. It felt like the beginning of a horror movie. Two friends enter a corn maze at night, now you just need a killer.

“Natashaaaaa” you sing “where are youuuuuu?” You’d been walking for what felt like forever, your phone was only on 4%. Nerves were starting to prickle in your belly “Come on I can’t find you! I give up okay so let’s go! I wanna watch a scary movie. Oooo maybe we can watch ‘Stay out of the Basement’ that’s meant to be good.” You hear the rustling of the dying corn leaves being pushed aside behind you, but still no reply from Natasha “Nat, if you’re trying to scare me it ain’t gonna work. I can hear you.” You spin around on your heel. It was not Natasha.

It was a man, he looked to be well over six foot tall. From where you were standing he was an Adonis; a halo of blonde hair and bulging muscle. He stepped closer, you remained still.

In the moon's pale light you could see the dirty blonde hair, tousled and scruffy with loose bits of hay and dirt tangled in his locks. He had a thick beard and moustache, but the glow from the moon still allowed you to see his prominent cheekbones. His firm chest strained against the thin fabric of his red, plaid shirt. You could see the contour of his torso and arms, he was covered in muscle and towering over you. As he stepped closer, further into the moonlight, you could see his face clearer; there were two messy stitches on either side of his mouth, clotted blood surrounding the punctures and strands of hay protruding from his skin. As he neared closer. You stumbled backwards. Fresh blood coated his thick, veiny arms all the way up to his sleeves rolled at his elbows, the cloth of his sleeves stained and dripping “Where are you going little bird? I want you to sing for me.” The stitched corners of his lips stretched into a smile as he lunged forward at you, his heavy body's ungraceful movements allowed you to dart past him into the thicket of corn. Your hands guarded your face defensively as you dashed through the corn, the brown, aged husks and leaves whipping at your exposed skin “Birdie! I’m gonna find you!” His bellowing voice pierced through the deafening sound of your blood rushing in your head.

You paused as your foot treads on something squishy, yet firm, you turn your gaze to the floor. Natasha. She’s beaten and bloody, clothes torn and her head appears to almost be severed from her shoulders “Nat…” you whimper, her eyes are still open. You hear the jostling of corn. You have no time to close them as you take off again, the bleak night air drowning you as you gulp it down like a fish. The burning tears dripping from your eyes burn your icy skin, you turn your head back to try to see him. He’s not there. You practically jump out of your skin as you hear a loud crack of thunder rumble around you, then cold drops of rain begin to fall. The drops that sprinkle across your skin send goosebumps across your skin, your hairs prickling to a point as you shiver.

You need to keep running, despite your exhaustion you find it within you to keep going. You can hear the corn rattling around you from every direction, you were so disorientated. As you jogged through the maze you reached down to your pocket to search for your dying phone, that’s when all hope drained from you. You’d dropped your fucking phone. The rain began to pick up, turning from a light dusting to harsh, thick droplets that fell with such speed that it hurt your skin. You came to a halt in a patch of newly formed mud, what were you meant to do? You felt doomed, you could no longer restrain the sobs that left you, lip wobbling as you choked on your sorrows.

One second you're standing, the next you’re tackled to the ground. Your shoulder collides with the sludgy earth and air catches in your lungs as you let out a choked yelp. You smash your hands into the Scarecrow's strong chest as you writhe against his fierce grip, he only needs one of his hands to overpower you and pin your hands above your head. You’re forced to look at him atop of you. His hair is glued to his forehead with sweat and the moonlight causes the thin sheen covering his skin to glitter like tiny diamonds. He bends closer to you, hot puffs of air from his heavy breathing suffocating you. He presses his face into the crook of your neck; the bristly hairs of his beard scratching against your neck as he licks at your neck, he shoved his nose into your hair and takes a long deep breathe in “Smell so good birdie, better than other woman. Ari’s gonna give you pleasure now.” You thrash against him kicking at him, he ignores it and bends one of your legs over his shoulder, “Lie still, Song bird, gonna make you feel so nice.” He grunts as you kick at his face, catches your ankle in his free hand and squeezes. His grip strength is inhuman. You shriek as you feel your bones creaking against the pressure he applies, your bones threaten to snap.

“Stop! Stop! I won’t kick you please!” You scream, the agony sending shocks across your nerves and to your brain, a dull ache lingering in your skull. He lets go of your ankle and lands a powerful punch to your gut, grit your teeth and grunt “Oof!” acidic sickness rising in your throat, you swallow it.

“Other girl wouldn’t stop screaming. Squeezed her too hard. Always squeeze too hard, it was an accident. Not gonna squeeze as hard with you, Birdie, like you, like your voice, like your scent. Want you alive.” His large hand tears your shorts and panties with one pull, the display petrified you but it also made your pussy drip. He ran two fingers through your fold, collecting some of your slick and bringing it to his mouth. He sucked his fingers clean of your cream, releasing his fingers with a loud pop “Taste so good. Need to fuck you.” Ari grumbled, undoing his jeans, releasing his member that slapped against his clothed stomach. It was long and ribbed with a thick purple vein running up the shaft and patch of pale blonde hair dusted his pelvis.

You moved your hips away from him. He hooks his calloused hand under your knee quickly and pulls you closer “No riggling, Birdie. Don’t wanna hurt you.” The fear freezes you in place and he takes the chance to thrust all the way inside you, smashing into your cervix causing you scream out and thrash as his dick crams uncomfortable inside you, he’s too big. You can feel the rubbed texture of his cock as your walls clamp harshly in an attempt to push him out. He pistons his hips without a care, unbothered by your body's feeble attempt at rejection. Your shrieks appear to fall upon death ears until he lifts you slightly by your wrists and then slams you back into the ground. Your brain rattles in your skull as your head hits the floor; a pounding pain throbs across the back of your head, and you look at him with a bewildered expression.

“No, Birdie, you’re meant to sing nicely. No screaming, or I’ll squeeze.” His scratchy knuckles brushes away the tears flowing down your cheeks. You nod and whimper, fighting the pain and letting out soft ‘oh’s and ‘ah’s as he continued his brutal pace, bending closer to you pushing your legs into you, angling your hips so he could thrust even deeper. Spearing you all the way to the hilt of his girthy length, you let out a guttural cry as he grunted and groaned in response to his own wild thrusts. Heat spread across your back as his pelvis rubbed against your clit “Tight.” He growled, pressing a kiss to your temple, he smelt strongly of hay and dirt, but underneath that strong scent of petrichor was a uniquely manly musk. Your pleasure was interrupted as his hand released your wrists, he slammed his fist into the ground, snarling as he thrusted. The hand holding your knee squeezed extremely tightly, you could feel bruises forming under his touch.

“Ow! Ari! Squeezing too tight!” You yowled, he was going to snap your knee. You dug your nails into the back of his neck, his pace slowed; his hips stuttering as he came to a stop entirely.

“Sorry, SongBird. Won’t squeeze anymore.” For a man…Scarecrow who was raping you he was being surprisingly considerate. He rubbed the pad of his thumb against your reddened cheeks soothingly before pulling out all the way to his tip before ramming back into you, hard enough for your body to slide around in the mud below you. Your lungs burn and your throat is raw. You bite back a scream when his bulbous tip collided with your cervix once again “Close. So close. Sing! Sing for me Birdie!” You whimper and let out an involuntary moan as his cock rubs the sweet spot within you. His barred teeth soften into a smile at your moans, his free hand comes to neck and he begins to squeeze. You remember Natasha, the way her head laid in a pool of blood. How you could barely see any remnants of her neck. You began to thrash once again, Ari ignored you, lost in his own pleasure. You could feel his cock twitching inside, in your mind you pleaded for him to come. For it to be over. His thrusts quickened even more, his hips bashing painfully into your ass. The sound of his balls slapping against your skin overpowering the crackle of thunder. He threw his head back and let out a full bodied groan, which resembled a roar as he came inside you. The ropes of his come were cold, just like his whole body-ice cold, the amount of his spend was unrelenting. He released your neck, you let out a series of cough thanking God for answering you as took deep breaths of air. You’d never been so grateful to be able to breathe.

Ari still hadn’t pulled out, he was still hard. Your pussy was rubbed raw from his pubic hair, and your clit ached painful from the force of his pelvis colliding with it. Then his thrusts continued. He wanted to go again. You clawed at him and he pinned you again “Bad Birdie, not done yet.” He murmured. You stared up at the moon as it mocked you, moving so freely through the sky. You curse the moon for letting him come alive. Your thoughts begin to fade as you just gaze up at the moving clouds heavy with more rain.

Resistance was futile. So you just laid there taking it. You close your eyes, your head was heavy from the adrenaline crash. You hoped sleep would take you, and it did.

The orange, pink tinge of sunset colours your vision as you open your eyes. Your ears are ringing, a piercing static reverberating in your skull. Your eyes sting and your throat is strained and scratchy. You push your hands beside you, they sink into the mud slightly as you sit up. A dull pain radiates throughout the apex of your thighs and legs, the bruises that litter them clear in the garish glow of the orange morning sun. You look around you, there’s hay scattered across the ground and beside you is the Scarecrow, face down in the mud your phone beneath his freakishly human hands. The baritone sound of his voice echoes in your mind as you pull your phone out and turn it on. 1% battery…Better call the right person.

Tag list: @alina02 @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @petesey @cevansgurl @getwellsoontana @bval-1 @feyfantome @alexxavicry @ashenc-blog @floral-recs @renster05 @flamefoxxrecs @savstranger @sojuxxi @cjand10 @sweetwrathoflilith @adoreyouusugar

#smut #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans character fanfiction #chris evans character x reader #chris evans characters #ari levinson x you #ari levinson drabble #ari levinson x f!reader #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson smut #ari levinson fanfiction #dark!ari levinson x reader #dark!ari levinson #dark!chris evans #monstertober #the red sea diving resort #ari levinson x fem!reader #kinktober 2022

[moqi2004]

uhmmM UHMMM CORN YAOI MARRIAGE BANTER MAYBE? FIC WHERE THEY ARE HAPPY AND MARRIED AND LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER..........

Anon to let you know I saw you ask this literally like four minutes after the post went up, I was beyond amazed. Ask speedrun award goes to this person.

Also sorry I made your happy happy fic hurt/comfort I couldn't help myself...

Marriage Banter

Words: 913

cross-posted on Ao3

tags: hurt/comfort, wedding anniversary, lazy mornings, breakfast in bed, self-doubt, fluff, Dalv being kinda traumatised but he's doing his best, hugs and kisses, no beta.

Summary: Dalv overthinks about his past. His husband unknowingly cheers him up with a little surprise on a special day.

Fic under the cut :) enjoy

Dalv never expected this would be him. That life could be kind to him. He had spent an entire year hiding… Not of the unknown, mind you - the unknown was his only friend back then. No, it was the known that was truly scary. What he’d seen with his own eyes, felt within his own chest, tasted within his fearful breaths. The sound of her cries… He couldn’t deal with that life, where he could be hurt all over again. No, hiding was safer. His cornfield was there, his projects. Pops and Broom were his only friends… Sure, Penilla and Decibat were kind to him, but that was it. 

Then Clover showed up. Clover, who reached out their hand even when Dalv attacked them. Clover, who showed them he couldn’t predict the world by hiding. Clover, who made time to visit him in Snowdin. Clover, who he never got a chance to say goodbye to… 

No. Dalv’s eyelids fluttered open. Now was not the time for that. Not today.

He rolled over to his side, only to find the bed empty. Where… Where was his husband? This wasn’t the first time Dalv had woken up alone, but usually he knew about it beforehand. He knew that they would be spending the day together, and yet his absence only made him paranoid… Dalv shook his head. Not. Today. No getting in his own head! Everything would be okay. Everything is-

Dalv snapped to attention. The door creaked open, just a notch. For a few seconds, there was nothing… From the gap in the door, Dalv could see something. He squinted, focusing as hard as he could, and yet he couldn’t make it out. It was then that, higher up from the object, something yellow moved to peek through the crevice. An eye was staring at him, the white shining from the glasses protecting them. He noticed it widen, which made Dalv lift a hand up to suppress his laughter.

“Dal, yer not supposed to be awake! Goshdarn it…”

Dalv couldn’t hold it in, his face scrunching as he giggled. The door fully opened itself to reveal his husband, dressed in casual teal sweatpants and a black shirt with a sleeping horse on it reading “ride off into dreamland”. Dalv recalled that Starlo’s posse got that shirt for him. Dalv then realised what the object he couldn’t describe was: the corner of a tray. It was now fully in view, holding two steaming breakfast plates. On it was some sausages, hash browns, and-

“Corn?” Dalv tilted his head slightly, a fond smile forming on his face.

“‘Course!” Starlo smirked proudly, “straight from my parent’s farm! Only the best fer you.”

Starlo walked next to Dalv and carefully placed the tray in his lap, the fresh corn smell causing Dalv’s mouth to water. Starlo leaned forward to press a soft kiss to Dalv’s cheek before moving to his side of the bed, sliding in next to his husband and reaching over for his own plate of food.

“Mmmm, this is so good,” Dalv munched contently, “your cooking is getting better and better by the day.”

“I hope so,” Starlo sighed, “can’t have Martlet fixin’ the stove again…”

“Or Ceroba scolding you,” Dalv smiled.

“Angel above, especially not that…”

“Oh, uh, and about that entrance?”

“It was suppos’ta be a surprise!” Starlo moved his hand to rest between the points on his head, “nothin’ much, mind you, but just a lil’ somethin fer-”

Dalv watched, amused, as Starlo’s face flushed a deep red. Starlo collected himself with a deep breath, a tell Dalv had learnt over the last year of their marriage and their time dating before that. Starlo quickly flipped to his North Star persona, leaning towards Dalv with a wink.

“A lil’ somethin for the most charmin vampire in the Wild East.”

Dalv felt his own cheeks warm at the corny attempt at flirting. Even after Starlo grew more confident to be himself around Dalv, he still couldn’t deny being charmed by both sides of his husband - the confident sheriff and the dorky farmboy. Starlo then leaned forwards to press a light peck to Dalv’s lips. The contact was fleeting and brief, yet it hit Dalv square in his soul. He turned away, beet red, noticing Starlo do the same out of the corner of his eye. Dalv melted completely at the sight.

The two of them soon recovered from their lovestruck thoughts and enjoyed their lazy morning breakfast, Starlo chatting constantly between mouthfulls.

“So, I’ve got tha whole day planned out,” he gave Dalv finger guns, “first, this. Then imma give you my gift; thought I’d tell ya instead of makin’ it a surprise. Then we’ll head on down to Snowdin for a lunch break, cause I know ya love the food they’ve got over at the Honeydew Resort. After that, we come back here and celebrate a lil bit with Ceroba, Martlet, and my posse. And finally, there’s nothin planned for the evenin’! Just, uh, potentially cowboy movies and cuddlin..? I didn’t wanna do anything too crazy since I know yer prefer time to recharge and-”

“It sounds perfect, Star,” Dalv leant against Starlo’s shoulder, content.

Dalv mentally thanked Clover for allowing him this chance. For the opportunity to make friends, to take steps he never thought possible. Without meeting Clover, Dalv would have never met Starlo.

“Happy Anniversary, Dal,” Starlo wrapped his arms around Dalv’s smaller frame, “love ya’.”

“Love you too.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's note:

ANON I HOPE THIS IS GOOD HONESTLY I MIGHT HAVE GONE TOO FAR FROM WHAT YOU WERE ASKING FOR BUT ONCE THE IDEAD WAS IN MY HEAD I COULDN'T STOP ;w;

As of making this post (the 16th of January 2024) asks are still open! You can find more info by going to my pinned blog post :)

REBLOGS > LIKES

#corn yaoi #north star uty #starlo uty #dalv uty #dalv x starlo #writing #tumblr request #moqi original #moqi asks #undertale yellow

[gachawolfiebloom]

Your Pursuit of Perfection

Story and Artwork By: @GachaWolfieBloom

Chapter 8: Are You Ready For The Next Show?

Summary: A few months after the events of WOTFI 2023, SMG4 starts having really bad dreams about the "Its gotta be perfect" incident. One night however, his fear allows the nightmares to break through and he gets taken to a horrific dimension. He finally meets the tv adware, who manipulates him into returning to his insane ways, intent on claiming much more than the perfect video. Now it's up to his friends to stop this madness and save SMG4. Can they do it in time or will they lose SMG4 forever? (In case you are unaware this is a sequel to the its gotta be perfect movie)

Tags: angst, its gotta be perfect, love confession, luigi, mario, meggy, melony, nightmares, scary, smg3, smg4, smg34, smg3 x smg4, tari, tv adware

Swag and Chris were getting the military ready while the others were discussing what to do. Karen was keeping her kids and the pets safe as she had kind of that caring mother's side to her. "The preparations are almost complete. If something is coming then we will be ready." Swag was more excited for this as he hoped it would be just like the last time. "IF THERE IS A DISTURBANCE IN MY TOWN THEN I'LL BE READY!" Chris raised an eyebrow and said "You'll be ready?"

"SHUT UP CHRIS!" Shroomy came up to them and said "Scoutmaster Shroomy is here to help anyway he can!" Swag wasn't convinced, but Chris knew that they would need all the help they could get. "We must hurry before-" Suddenly a striking thunder sound shook the ground. A shadow like creature of a familiar figure was hovering above them. The citizens started panicking as they ran in different directions.

"May I offer you some corn in these trying times?" Rob offered, but no-one listened. "SMG4 IS EVIL AGAIN! QUICK ARM THE TANKS!" Chris watched as he noticed something different, but he couldn't tell what it was. "But he doesn't look like..."

Back in the nightmare dimension, the presumable Smg4 spoke as the others looked horrified. "Its true that you have defeated me before, but what will you do now that I have returned? Without all of you, your little powers are useless. At bit of a sticky situation isn't it?"

Bob showed no fear as he yelled out "BRO I AIN'T SCARED OF YOUR PINK CRAP! COME AT ME!" Smg4 laughed and said "Really? That's the best you got. I've heard of much better comebacks than that." Meggy tried to reach out to him as she said in a concerned tone "Four? Can you hear me? You have to fight it!"

The man was getting annoyed as he took more serious approach. "You are all so dense! Remember those forces you all 'destroyed' with your little powers when the TV Adware was around? Well guess what? You didn't do such a great job after all. He now controls your friend... me I suppose. SMG4 IS GONE!"

The TV Adware was watching this all unfold with a creepy but pleased smile on his face. Saiko stood her ground as she said "I don't believe you. Four is still in there and I'm sure of it!" Mario pushed Saiko aside as he had his own plan. "Smg4 just needs a little reassurance from his best friend! Something only he would remember!" He got into Four's face and started remencing a memory of them.

"Likkkkeee Smg4 remember when you and Smg3 got trapped in the igloo and Mario had to come and save you! He had found you two making love to each other and you were so embarrassed that you made Mario promise to never ever tell!" Four immediately froze, but then rolled his eyes when Mario realized what he did. "Oops. Mario just did." Three wasn't really worried about what Mario had just spilled about him as he couldn't bear to see this awful sight. He tried to bring Four back by giving him words of encouragement like last time.

"Four? It's me Three. You know me right? I...you... I don't want to lose you again. Please come back." It seemed to be working as he saw tears forming in the man's eyes. His pupils went to their usual blue for a second and his eyebrows went soft. "Three..." However, the attempt failed as Four shut his eyes and clenched his fists. He stomped his foot hard on the ground and yelled "ENOUGH!"

He turned towards Three and said "You had so much power and what did you give it up for? These weaklings?" Three resisted as he shot back "You're wrong!" He tried to sway Three into returning to his state of guilt. "If you had just prevented me from falling back to my past, your precious friends could have been spared. You have done this to all of us and we will never forgive you!" 

Meggy pulled him away and said "Don't listen to him Three! He's trying to get into your head!" Four inched closer. "They say that, but who could possibly forgive someone who almost killed them like that?"

Mario decided to stand up to this big bully and said "Alright fake Smg4! Mario is not sorry and there are many embarrassing moments where that one came from!" The cracks etched deeper on Four's face as the dark, goopy creatures surrounded all of them. "It doesn't matter what you say. I am taking over the Showgrounds and you will be powerless to stop it! Take them down!" The creatures immediately attacked, swarming and whooshing around the crew. Saiko started to run from one while shouting "Come get me you stupid tentacle!"

Another one was coming after her, but she dodged both of them at the last second, causing them to crash into each other. Meggy defended herself with her splatshot, One and Two with their meme powers, and the others had their own unique talents for dealing with them. Meggy didn't realize that one of the creatures was behind her and was about to pounce on her when...

Three stopped it and yelled "Oh no you don't! I already let you take one of my friends! I'm not letting you do it to another!" The creature flared around, but it didn't take long for Three to get exhausted. The tentacle flung him off into the distance. "THREE!" Meggy called out, but it was too late. The creatures were getting stronger and the others couldn't fight them off any longer.

As Meggy found herself being wrapped up by one of the tentacles, she called out to One and Two. "Go home and get help!" Two cried out "We can't just leave you here!" Saiko called out "You have to go now or the Showgrounds won't stand a chance!"

"We'll be okay!" Tari said to try and convince them. One placed his hand on Two's shoulder and they both nodded. They teleported themselves back home, but before they did, they both said "Hang tight. We'll come back for you!"

They were all caught by the creatures as Four said "Take them to the dungeon. I'll deal with them later." The creatures took off with them while Mario still had confidence he could escape. "Mario will get out! You'll see!" He tried wiggling, but no amount of effort would get him to escape the grasp.

As they walked off, the TV Adware walked up to Four. "Remember our deal. Make sure that they do not stand in our way this time." He slowly nodded and said "Don't worry. This time they won't stand in our way.”

The Showgrounds will be mine…

Chapter 9: Nothing is What it Seems

#smg4 #smg3 #smg34 #smg4 mario #smg4 melony #smg4 meggy #smg4 smg3 #smg4 tari #angst #love confession #it’s gotta be perfect #tv adware #smg3 x smg4 #luigi #scary #nightmare

[rinrin-the-shark-teen]

Steve cannot believe this. He is humiliated on an entirely new level. He has fought literal MONSTERS and looked death in the eye more times than he is comfortable to count and yet... and yet here is is. Fighting a literal child. How did he even get here?

Steve takes a deep breath, opens his fridge and takes out 2 soda cans. He slowly makes his way back to his living room where everyone is watching some movie that he hasn't even payed attention to because he has been too busy glaring at a kid. He really should be ashamed, but more than anything he is irritated.

Steve's main pain point in life is one Mike Wheeler. This kid is doing ANYTHING within his power to get him as far away from Eddie as possible. Steve already knew that he wasn't Mike's favorite person but still... this was beyond ridiculous.

Steve had originally planned for a movie night with Eddie and Eddie ALONE. But somehow, it suddenly turned into a movie night with the entire party. He heard from Dustin's loose lips that Eddie had made an off comment about today and suddenly Mike had invited everyone over. Eddie had actually looked sheepish about it. He didn't want to impose on Steve like this, but once the gremlins had something in their head it was impossible to get them to stop. Hence why literally everyone was now piled up on the Harrington living room. Steve understood of course, he has had his fair share of ruined plans thanks to the kids, he couldn't blame Eddie. He knew perfectly well whose fault it was. Still, he tried to make the best of it. He could still pull some moves right? It was dark, they would be in close quarters, and during a scary movie?? Perfect scenario to get some of the ol' Harrington charm on. So as casually as he could, he started getting everyone seated, leaving him and Eddie on the loveseat at the back. And at first, it was great. Eddie would get reaaaally close, little comments leaving his mouth that lingered on Steve's cheek, he was so close. God he had missed this feeling so much. The quick heart rate, the tingling on his skin where their arms met, the butterflies on his stomach.. even the hot flush that took over his neck when Eddie winked at him after a particularly lewd comment. He was about to make the typical douche move and put his arm behind the couch when... "Steve" ... "Steve!" "What!?" "I'm hungry" "Go get some snacks then Wheeler" "I don't want to touch something that i'm not supposed to dude" Steve sighed deeply, rolling his eyes before getting up to the kitchen. He might as well make some for everyone right? He quickly got some pop corn and some chips into bowls and walked out of the kitchen, everyone still enraptured by the movie. Everyone but Mike Wheeler. Who had moved from his place on the puppy pile on the floor, to HIS place next to Eddie. "Wheeler, come take your food" "Can't you just pass it over?" "You're in mi seat..." "What are you? 12?" "Aren't you??" "SHHHHHHH! Shut up man we're trying to watch something here!!" Both of them cringed and apologized quickly. Steve looked back to Mike who was now watching Eddie with huge eyes and a faint blush on his cheeks. The reaction was immediate: irritation, jealousy and incredulity. The little shit really had gotten Steve out of Eddie's vicinity, taken Steve's place thinking what?? that he had a shot?? or was he just lowering Steves chances??? Just when Steve thought this could not get worse, he was not internally cursing a child for being next to his crush, he wasn't... ..the little shit had the absolute audacity to smirk at him??? while slowly leaning onto Eddies shoulder at that?!? Oh. Oh no. Oh now it was ON.

#i cant stop laughing at mike being over the moon in love with eddie and steve not being able to stand it #eddie doesnt care hes a kid so he just kind of ignores it #but steve #poor steve is SEETHING #who does this dumb kid think he is??? #he will throw hands if mike lays a hand on his crush #hes LIKE TWELVE how DARE HE #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #mike wheeler #stranger things

[supermarvel-fics]

Tickletober Day 3: Shriek

fandom: marvel

word count: 1,000

pairing: peter 3 x reader (platonic)

summary: you're not easily scared and peter attempts to prove you wrong

“You seriously don’t get scared?” Peter asked with an eyebrow raise. “It’s Halloween… it’s supposed to be scary!”

You shrugged before taking a sip of your latte, eyeing Peter in the chair across from you the whole time. “I just don’t scare easily. Horror movies, haunted houses, ‘scary’ corn mazes… they’re just so underwhelming.”

“So, you mean to tell me that you’ve never been scared. Ever. Like no one has ever snuck up behind you and made you flinch?

“Not that I can remember, no.”

You caught Peter’s smirk as he shut his Biology textbook and threw it to the unused sofa beside him. “Challenge accepted.”

“Excuse me?” You spluttered, following his lead by closing your own book.

“I’m going to scare you successfully this year,” He responded while leaning forward in his seat, elbows propped up on his knees. You grinned back at him, almost trying not to laugh.

“Yohou? You’re going to be the one who scares me?”

“I’m sure I can do it if I put my mind to it,” Peter nodded. You chuckled softly, reaching out towards your coffee cup to take another swig.

“Alright. Good luck, then.”

And Peter wasted absolutely no time in trying to complete his mission. After your study session, approximately 30 minutes after the two of you had dropped the conversation entirely, he began with his first attempt. You had your back turned to him as you put away your books and instantly felt more than heard Peter standing behind you.

“BOO!” He shouted close to your ear. You didn’t react, obviously, and snickered when your friend let out a huff filled with defeat.

“Peheter, I felt your breath on my neck. Also, we just got done talking about it, so I kinda knew it was coming. You’re gonna have to be more creative than that,” You told him, nudging his shoulder with yours as you slid past him. “Nice effort, though!”

You had to laugh at his determination. After that day, any time Peter saw you, he’d attempt to scare you. Sneaking up behind you before class, following you to Starbucks, even going as far as breaking into your dorm while you were out and about.

He took the act of being the one to scare you so seriously that he began watching you like a hawk to see if he could find any hints to what made you flinch or squeak. Only problem was that nothing could do that—you were just unable to be frightened.

So, Peter decided that after this time, he’d drop it and admit defeat. He squatted behind the couch in the common area of your dorm waiting for you to pass by. He’d done this exact ruse a few days ago, so maybe it would catch you off guard this time.

A few minutes later, he heard the beep of the door as you scanned your ID and the jingling of your room keys as you walked through the room. Peter held his breath and watched as you walked right past where he was hiding, giving him the perfect opportunity to rush up behind you.

“GOTCHA!” He yelled, grabbing ahold of your sides to pull you back into his chest. Not expecting the sudden contraction of his fingertips, you shrieked, and Peter had a field day with your reaction. “YES! I did it! I told you I’d scare you!”

You forcefully removed his hands from your waist and turned around to scold him. “You didn’t scare me, Peter! You… ugh.”

“Uh-huh, right. Then, what was that little scream you made when I snuck up behind you?” Peter interrogated with an insufferably smug grin on his face. You decided not to gratify him with an answer and instead grunted, walking away from him and towards your dorm room. You fumbled with the keys as Peter scurried after you. “Oh, come on! Is your ego too big to just admit that you finally got scared?”

Sighing, you pushed your door open, trying to slam it shut on Peter, but he kicked it right back open and followed you in. “Yeah, fine, Pete. You scared me. Great job,” You said monotonously, throwing your bag onto your bed. Your back was still facing him, so when his hands found your waist again as he started to reenact the moment, you let out another loud squeal, this time laced with a small giggle.

You arched away from him, you elbows slamming down on instinct. As you whipped around, you caught sight of your friend’s face, only making yours turn red.

“I didn’t scare you…” Peter realized.

“No, you did! You totally got me this time,” You laughed nervously, backing away from him without realizing.

“You don’t get scared. You screamed because I accidentally tickled you, didn’t I?” He asked, inching closer. You gulped and before you got the chance to vehemently deny that you’re even ticklish, Peter lunged and began squeezing at your sides with more intent.

“Peter! Noho, Pehete!” You protested. Twisting away from him, you freed yourself from his grasp and tried running for the door, but Peter took a few long strides forward and once again gripped your waist, pulling you back against his chest and digging his fingers into your ribs. “WAHAHA! NOHO!”

“You may not scare easily, but you are ticklish, so I think I win either way,” He teased you, pinching rapidly up and down your torso. Your knees buckled beneath you and Peter helped you down onto the floor, continuously tickling you to pieces.

“THAHAT’S NOT FAHAHAIR! PEHETER, NO!”

“It’s extremely fair. This is compensation for how much work went into trying to scare you!”

“It’s nohot my FAHAULT THAT YOHOU JUST AREN’T SCAHAHARY!” You bit back, only making Peter wiggle his fingers harder in retaliation. “OHOKAY! WAHAIT! I’M SOHORRY!”

Peter slowed down to a light scratching at the middle of your ribcage, smiling down at you as you squirmed and giggled. “I’ll get you someday.”

“Rihight. Whatever yohou say, Pehete.”

#marvel #marvel tickle #mcu #lee!reader #ticklish!reader #ler!peter3 #tickle prompts #tickle fic #tickle drabble #sfw tickle fic #augtickletober2022 #tickletober2022 #tasm peter parker #peter parker

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 29: corn maze

Masterlist flufftober 🎀

Reblog if you liked it!

“Are you sure we should go this way? That corner over there seems familiar to me”

“For the umpteenth time today, you can't possibly recognize a place because they all look the same. They are cornfields”

“Your response only confirms to me that we are fucking lost.”

In reality, you knew you weren't lost and even if you were, you trusted that your friend would be able to get you out of there. You and Spencer had known each other for practically as long as you could remember and when he told you that he would be in Vegas for a few days you practically begged him to go out with you. You didn't even care where you guys were going, you just wanted to spend time with him and enjoy the fall weather like when you were children.

In the midst of it all Spencer looked at a sign advertising a haunted house and a corn maze on the outskirts of town and he thought about the last time he had gone to either. He talked to you and in the end you decided on the second option, feeling an adventurous spirit that was not very fueled right now.

“We’re not lost. I have an eidetic memory and I know perfectly well that since we arrived, we have made one turn to the right, three to the left, we walked forward along the path on the right side, then we made another turn to the left…”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” you whined, smiling slightly at your friend’s jabbering. A couple of people walked past you and waved at you, looking a little more lost than you.

Spencer was wearing a long coat that day, a garment you weren't very used to seeing him in, a themed scarf and a pumpkin-colored hat that you had knit for him a couple of years ago but that he still seemed to appreciate.

“Don't worry, these camps always use a Global Positioning System with satellites to help identify the location of all the people in the camp and are designed so that you can leave halfway if you panic.”

“This reminds me of that novel by King and his son, In the Tall Grass, have you read it?”

"No. Is it good?"

“It's a little scary if you live in the country. Or if you go into a corn maze, like a couple of fools thought of it” you joked and that seemed to amuse your friend, who giggled.

You moved a little closer to him and decided to wrap your hand around his arm, an approach that he gladly received.

“I'm glad we're here, I really wanted to see you.”

“I know, you hardly come to Las Vegas anymore. When was the last time?"

“Eight months and thirteen days”

“Too long,” you said, with a certain melancholy, and Spencer raised his opposite hand to put it on yours, as if he wanted to apologize for having taken so long to return.

“To the left,” he murmured kindly to you, pointing his head in that direction.

“I'm following you without questioning you, you know? If we get lost, I won't even know."

“We arrived at the third checkpoint, right there,” he pointed out, with a proud smile. “Relax, don't you trust me? I am a genius"

“You're a show-off,” you laughed, resting your head on his shoulder for a second and feeling his do the same on the top of your head.

It felt good to be with him like that, like two old friends who know that no matter how much time passes, things won't change at all between them. You didn't know it, but Spencer had been going through a lot these past few months, and being with such a familiar face comforted him immensely, as if he could remember a time in the past that seemed happier and simpler.

“I think it's this way!” you heard next to you. It was a group of teenagers who were pointing down the path to the left at a fork and who seemed quite excited by the discovery they had just made. “We are going to win, it shouldn't be too far away”

“Stop,” Spencer murmured, surprising you and them. “It's not that way. "You must take the other path”

The young people debated for a moment whether they should follow a stranger's advice or their own conclusions and you believed that, in their place, you would have done the same; I mean, a couple of adults advising them is always strange, since they feel like they know everything in the world. Still, you decided to support them a little.

“Listen to him, we haven't gotten lost even once. He's a genius for these things.”

You almost saw Spencer make fun of you when he heard you call him a genius, when just seconds before you were calling him a braggart.

“What if you are lying to us?”

“I'm so sure it's that way that I'll greet you at the exit,” Spencer responded, with a small smile “It's not too far away, but if you want to take that path and it leads you to nothing, you just need to go back to the right one.”

After thinking about it for a while, the group made the best decision and after saying thank you, they began to walk on the side that Spencer had recommended, where you saw them get lost a couple of seconds later.

“Why did you help them?”

"Why don’t do it?" he responded with amusement.

You continued advancing while you held him and when you reached the place that had caused discord, he guided you to the opposite side where the teenagers had gone. Your brow furrowed and you tried to mutter something, but Spencer beat you to it.

“I know this isn’t where we should go,” he pointed out, as if wanting to calm your questions.

"And then?"

“I thought that if we take the right path, we will spend less time together.”

Your heart skipped a little when you heard what he was telling you and you smiled unconsciously, like you always did when you were with him.

You continued to hold his arm carefully and chatted the rest of the way, not even having to worry about where you were going because you knew that in the end he would guide you to the right place.

And you thought, maybe, that was part of the magic of being with Spencer Reid.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove @vivian-555 @r-3dlips @rhiannonhippiegirl @taygrls @simp4f1 @sdddoobydoobydoo @taintedstranger @missabsey

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x you #flufftober 2023 #prompt list #writing challenge #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid drabble

[crowhyun]

Halloween Nights

(repost)

huening kai x reader smut

Warnings: kai and y/n being that dumb couple in scary movies, sex in a haunted house, rough sex, unprotected sex

Words: 2.5k

AN: Because autumn is upon us and bcs of a certain anon (lol), i’ve decided to repost this! Also, yes the name is different bcs i forgot the actual name lolol. Hope y’all enjoy!

It was the climax of the party. The creepy halloween music was ear-burstingly loud, the smell of cinnamon penetrated the air, and the corn maze race was about to start. The halloween party was the most anticipated frat party every year, and this time, you weren't going to miss it, especially now that you were dating someone from the frat.

      Huening Kai. Even though there was a plethora of guys dressing as the joker for halloween, Kai still managed to outshine every single one of them. His hair was sprayed green, and his make-up was terrifyingly perfect, thanks to you. You thought about matching him and dressing as Harley Quinn, but you decided not to, instead dressing up as Cat Woman. You thought it was low-maintenance and it went with the theme you and Kai were doing. Besides, Kai seemed to really enjoy the tight, black costume you chose to wear, evident with the way he's been checking you out this whole time.

      "The corn maze race is about to start everyone!" Yeonjun, another member of the frat, announced through a mic. "Choose your partner and go to the start line!"

      Taehyun snatched the mic away from Yeonjun and continued. "Whoever wins gets a buttload of cavity causing candy, and a ticket to the movies with Beomgyu!"

      Everyone screamed in excitement, but most of it was high pitched screams from the ones who've been crushing on Beomgyu this whole year. You laughed, going over to Kai to wrap your arm around his arm, running out of the back door with him to the start of the corn maze.

      "You seem eager, do you really want to go to the movies with Beomgyu so bad?" Kai said, his face twisted in fake anger.

      "No, silly!" You said, hitting his chest. "That candy does sound appetizing, though. And we can share it!"

      "Why, when I've got my candy right here?" He flirted, attaching his lips to your neck, littering ticklish kisses there. You giggled in his hold, his actions making you push him away, but you didn't really want him to stop.

      "Are you ready to rumbleeeee!?!?" You heard a loud voice which turned out to be Beomgyu. Everyone cheered in response. "Who's excited to go out with me?!" The cheers presumed. "Ready...set...go!"

      And with that, everyone who was participating ran into the corn maze. The crowd was big at first, everyone looking at all the different directions to go, including the two of you.

      "Let's go right," Kai said, dragging you along with him to the right. The crowd was getting thinner, everyone going their own ways. Anyone could no doubt know where you and Kai were, the sounds of your incessant giggling getting louder with how much you guys ran. You guys were just turning whichever way you wanted with no thought or plan behind it. Kai kept a firm hold on your arm, not wanting to lose you in the darkness.

"Where are we?" You said, your breathing heavy. There was silence, the sounds of the other participants long gone.

"Uh, I think we're...in a corn maze." Kai said, the both of you bursting out into laughter, ignoring the fact that you guys were very lost. "Who knows, maybe we're closer than anyone else." He then said. "Let's go this way." He pointed forward and you listened. You knew that Kai had no idea what he was doing, but neither did you. At the end of the day, it was all fun and games as well as more time to spend with him.

"You know, I thought I had an advantage, with you being a frat brother and all." You said.

"Well, what's the fun in that?" He said. "Would you rather wait at the finish line or be in the race?"

"You do make a good point." You said.

"I know." He smiled smugly.

You guys were pretty slow, now, knowing that you guys probably weren't going to win in the end. You held yourself close to Kai, the creepiness of the dark and silent corn maze getting to you, and he seemed to noticed.

"Are you scared, babe?" He asked, looking down at you and you nodded. "Don't worry, you've got the joker to protect you." He turned your head towards him, and he placed a soft kiss on your lips, making butterflies swarm in your tummy. Kai knew the effect he had on you, and it made him extremely cocky, which looked undeniably hot on him.

You guys turned left and walked a bit before you found an opening.

"I don't think that's the end." You said, holding onto him tighter. The opening was dark, as you were barely able to see anything.

"Maybe we could cheat and go around the maze from there." Kai said, making you gasp.

"You bad boy!" You said. "Let's do it." The laughing commenced once again as you guys ran to the dark opening. It seemed to lead to the forest, and your heart beat rose with the sound of the wind going through the dry leaves that hung onto the tree branches. You felt a chill down your spine, a reminder of just how chilly the air was tonight.

"(Y/N), (Y/N)..." Kai tapped you, pointing forward. "What's that?"

You squinted a bit, trying to make out what he saw through the darkness. You saw what seemed to be a silhouette of a small house. "It looks like a house..."

"Ooh, what if it was a haunted house?" Kai said with a smile. "We should check it out."

"I think you mean we should go back to the race and to safety." You said, tugging him to move along.

"C'mon, babe, it's probably not really haunted." Kai said, the tall boy not budging. "Also, we could create some memories." He wiggled his brows at you.

"What are you insinuating?" You squinted your eyes at him.

"I'll show you." He smirked, dragging you along to the rickety old house. By now, your excitement has grown over your fear despite how old, dark, and rundown the house looked. You guys walked up the creaky porch, the front door already ajar, as if the house was inviting the two of you in.

"You sure about this, Kai?" You asked him.

"Are you?"

The two of you looked at each other in silence for a few seconds before you guys carelessly entered the house. It's halloween, for goodness sakes, you guys just wanted to have some fun.

"I wonder how old this house is." Kai said, the floorboards creaking. It was a small house, nothing too extravagant. There was dust and cobwebs everywhere, spiders lurking in the dark corners. You two slowly explored the house, your footsteps loud in the silence.

"Look at that." You said, pointing to a picture in the wall that caught your attention. Kai looked over at it, his eyebrows furrowing. In the picture, there was a man and a woman dressed up in clothing that was from the 1800sz

"Shit...this house must be really old." Kai said. The couple looked serious, both of them wearing black eyepatches as if they had both lost an eye. There was a small tattoo of a cross on their collarbones, which caught your eye the most.

"They look like they belonged to some cult." You said.

"How creepy..." Kai said.

"You know what's funny, though?" You said. "The man weirdly looks like your dad."

Kai burst out laughing, his loud laugh breaking the creepy silence. "You're kinda right." He said, taking out his phone to take a picture of it. "I'm going to show this to him."

"Hey, take a picture of me." You said, posing in your cat woman costume as he snapped a picture. He then got in with you, taking a selfie of you both with the flash on, his eyes closed against the bright light. He looked at the picture, chucking at it.

"You're so cute." He said, putting his phone away. "And sexy." You laughed at his change of demeanor as he attaching himself to you, his large hands groping your behind.

"Babe, not in front of the picture." You joked. He led you away from the picture, going into another room in the house that was just as dark and dusty as the last one. This was was probably a bedroom, but you didn't have enough time to look, because Kai had found a surface to throw you on. You were caught by surprise at his eagerness as you were laid on some table, Kai between your legs as he attached his lips to yours in a passionate kiss.

"I've been waiting to get you like this since I saw you in this costume." He said between kisses, then he moved to your neck, marking you up.

"I knew you'd like it." You moaned out with a smile, your hands grasping his broad shoulders. He reached for the zipper on the front of your costume, zipping it down and revealing the lacey black bra you chose to wear.

He bit his lip at the sight, his pants tightening as his bulge grew. "For me?" He asked, and you nodded, his hands cupping your breasts. He leaned down to kiss the skin there, marking it just like he marked your neck. He wanted it to be known that you were taken only by him and he wanted people to see the things he did to you, all while keeping his innocent school boy facade.

He grinded his bulge into you, groaning with you good it felt.

"Kai, please," You whined. "I want you." You reached for his belt, loosening it up, and he pulled his pants down just enough to release his thick girth. You nearly drooled at the size of it, anticipating the stretch it would give you.

"You ready, baby?" He asked, his tip already pressing into your hole, pushing your lace panties to the side. You nodded, pulling him down to drag him into a passionate kiss as he pushed inside of you. You moaned into the kiss and he pushed to the hilt, balls deep in your wet cavern. He parted from the kiss, placing his hands on your hips as he started to thrust into you at a quick pace, his desperation showing. You tried not to moan loudly and disturb the peace of the house, but with the way the floor and furtniture was creaking, you knew that the peace was already ruined.

As Kai pummeled into you, showing off his strength, you trailed your hands underneath his shirt, feeling the ripples of his muscles. His large hands had a tight hold of your hips, pulling you into his cock as he thrusted into you. The sounds of your wetness were embarrassingly loud, but neither of you cared as the two of you chased your highs.

It was when you heard an unfamiliar sound that you pushed on Kai's chest. "Wait, wait, fuck...Kai stop for a second." You struggled to get him to stop, as you didn't really want to. He stopped, pulling out of you in a panic.

"What happened? Are you okay? Was I going too hard?" He asked, eyes wide.

"N-no, I thought I heard something." You said. The both of you froze, listening out for any sounds, but you were met with silence. "Maybe it was just the house settling in."

"Yeah, probably." Kai said. "Can we continue?"

You laughed at him, nodding an affirmative. He slipped himself into you again, your smile dropping into a gasp. The feeling of him filling you up was a feeling you were never going to get used to. It was euphoric.

He pinned your hands down as he started to build up to the rough pace he had set before, his cock throbbing in between your walls. You moaned out his name, feeling your orgasm quickly build up, and you threw your head back. Your neck was bared to him, and he couldn't help but place more kisses there, licking the bruises and biting you. You gasped as you started to cum, your pussy gripping his cock tightly. He groaned, his thrusts going erratic as he chased his high within your over-sensitive walls.

You whimpered once you felt him cum inside of you, spurt after spurt of his nectar filling you up.

"Fuck..." Kai breathed out. "That...was hot." He said, making you laugh weakly. He then pulled out, moving your panties back into place so his cum wouldn't spill out. He zipped you back up and helped you off of the table. The feeling between your legs were sore, but you didn't care.

"We should get back." You said, holding onto him once more. "And maybe we could go for round two in your room?"

He smiled at you, biting his lip. "You're so naughty." He giggled, reaching over to spank you, making you jump. "You still want my cock after all of that?"

"Is that a surprise?" You pouted, and he just laughed, giving you a kiss on the lips.

"Well, we better find our way back quickly." He said, and with that, the two of you rushed out of the creepy house, going back into the maze.

It took you guys a whole thirty minutes to get back to the house, the party already thinning out and the winner already chosen.

"Where have you guys been?" Yeonjun asked once he caught sight of us. "We thought you guys had gotten lost."

"We did, but we found our way back with the power of love." Kai said, the both of you giggling like children. Yeonjun looked at you guys confesedly, then shrugged it off, going back to whatever he was doing. Kai then looked at you. "Upstairs?"

"Upstairs." You nodded, the two of you sneaking up and to his room. Before he got the chance to have his way with you once again, he quickly checked his phone to the see pictures you guys took. He chuckled at how cute you two were, stopping at the selfie you guys took. His brows furrowed once he looked in the background, seeing something peculiar. Almost like...someone was watching the two of you.

"Kai, come on." You whined, already stripped to your undergarments on the bed. He snapped out of it, clicking his phone shut as he remembered just what you guys came up here to do.

He rushed to hover over you, passionately kissing you. As the night proceeded and he devoured you like he wanted, the two of you failed to notice the little crosses that had randomly appeared on your collarbones, too distracted by the pleasure you guys put yourselves through.

And back at the creaky old house you guys left, the man and woman in the picture were smiling sinisterly. What once happened two hundred years ago, was now bound to happen again, and they've just found their victims.

#txt smut #huening kai x reader #huening kai smut #txt huening kai #kpop smut

[beloveddawn-blog]

Sun Haven Halloween Event

I'm not even bothering to pretend to think of a title for this. Teleri is my OC, as is Zari. Char, Sass, and Helios belong to my family members, and those four are a little pack. Other OCs are:

@mutsuowo with Tsubaki

@dennydraws with Aryllin

@artistvicky with Seraphina

@minnieposting with Noel

Happy Halloween all!

“They say that those the maze takes… They never come out!”Tsubaki hissed, making good use of her unusual body structure to seal the scariness. Pod and Topi were spellbound before her, still in a way they almost never were. She twirled her hat in her hands, fully intending on dragging this out a bit longer before her grand finale. She was in her element  during Halloween, and intended to enjoy every minute of it.

“rrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRREVENGE!!!!” Teleri burst from the side of the corn maze, like the total heathen she was, and all three of them jumped. The boys screamed in terror, which quickly turned to laughter matching Teleri’s as she scooped up one under each arm and spun them around until she fell over, dizzy and giggling. Tsubaki glared at her friend with her hands on her hips, but even she couldn’t stop her lips from twitching. 

“Teleri!” She scolded, shaking her head. “We talked about this. No jump scares in the corn maze!”

“I wasn’t in the corn maze.” The elemental shot back, spinning on the ground to face the naga. “I only scared people outside of it.”

“That’s not the point and you know it.” Tsubaki insisted, but she knew her tail gave her away. And she wasn’t really mad at Teleri, just a bit annoyed that her story had been cut off. Kitty and Iris had both shrieked at the ending (as had Rami, but he was insisting he hadn’t. Tsubaki would give him that for this day, at least) and she had been looking forward to more victims. She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Go collect your husband and get out of my corn maze. Bother someone else for a bit.”

Teleri gave a sloppy salute, then rolled herself up to her feet. “NATHANIEL!” She bellowed, causing the children to jump again while Kara burst out laughing. “WE’RE BEING BANISHED! GET OUT HERE!”

“DON’T GIVE AWAY MY SECRET, WOMAN!” He bellowed back. “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW LONG I’VE BEEN STALKI… OW OW OW OW OW!” He cried, only for Jun to re-emerge from the start of the maze with Nathaniel’s ear pinched between his finger and thumb. His mask was flipped up and his face was placid, but both women could easily see the smile lurking behind his eyes. He came right up to Teleri and presented her husband to her, still leading him by the ear.

“Yours, I believe, my lady.” He stated, and Teleri kissed his cheek before taking her husband’s arm.

“I thank you for your assistance, good sir.” She replied, smiling sweetly and curtsying. Nathaniel glared at them both, but it was easy to see how he melted when he looked at his wife.

“How come you’re only nice to him?” He groused good-naturedly, and Teleri threw back her head and laughed.

“I’m plenty nice to you.” She insisted. “Just not in a way we should demonstrate here…”

“Iiiiii think you should go visit Claude.” Kara broke in, jumping forward to cover Pod’s ears. Tsubaki copied her with Topi and agreed.

“This really isn’t that sort of party, guys. It’s meant to be family friendly.”

Teleri blinked innocently at them while her husband turned so red you could see it under his face paint. “I was talking about not making him eat his own cooking.” She insisted, tilting her head sideways and fighting the smirk trying desperately to crawl across her face. “That is a true horror, too terrifying for a family Halloween.”

Rosa, who had just walked over to see what all the yelling was about, started laughing. Nathaniel glared at her in betrayal. “I don’t have to take this insubordination.” He informed her haughtily, turning his nose up. He turned back to the rest of the group. “Watch me not take this insubordination.” He repeated, then stalked off in a very obviously fake state of dramatic high dudgeon. Teleri laughed and waved to her friends as she followed, her arm still securely tucked around his.

Rosa rolled her eyes and turned back to Tsubaki, who was now letting the two boys and Kara into the maze. “I will go next.” She declared, “And I am not so skittish as Kitty. Do your worst.”

Tsubaki smiled, always up for a challenge.

*

“Claude!” Aryllin called out, racing across the lawn towards her beloved.

“Ary!” He called back in delight. She lit up at the tone of his voice, then tripped over her own feet from excitement and slid the last five feet to end up right in front of him. “Are you alright?” He questioned, dropping to his knees to assist her. He spared not a thought for how expensive his clothes were, just reached out. Ary smiled up at him in reassurance.

“I’m fine.” She insisted, even as she hissed a little pushing herself up. Claude was supporting her in an instant, and she melted into him. 

“You are not.” He insisted, tucking her close so he had a free hand to examine her nearest one. Not finding anything wrong with it, he reached across for the further hand, and she winced when he touched it. He frowned at her, concerned.

“I am.” She insisted stubbornly, frowning petulantly at her wrist as she attempted to flex it. Light rippled down from her halo and out to the tips of her wings, and she attempted to flex it again with much more success. “See?” She insisted, holding her hand right up for inspection. Helplessly charmed, Claude simply took her offered hand and and softly kissed the back of it.

“That’s cheating and you know it.” He murmured to her. “I don’t care that you can heal yourself, I still don’t want you hurt.” She smiled at him as softly as he gazed at her, and they both seemed to realize it at the same time and became stuttering messes. They looked away quickly, then snuck glances back until Claude finally noticed one thing that broke through his embarrassment with sheer bafflement. “Are those… feather wings?”

Ary lit up, excited to talk about her costume. “They clip on! Isn't that so neat? There were ones with little harnesses, but that would have messed up the lines of my dress.”

Claude blinked at her. “Ary… you have wings.”

“They’re so I can be an angel!” She proclaimed, beaming. “We match! Like the ones on people’s shoulders!”

He blinked again. That continued to not make her make sense. “Ary… You are an angel.”

She blushed again and looked down, twisting her shoulders in bashful delight. “Awww, that’s so sweet.”

“No, like, you are literally an angel.” He pressed on, and she giggled while twining her fingers together. “Look at yourself, Ary, you’re…” He trailed off then, taking in her face markings and the flowing white dress she was wearing, both now covered in mud. “A mess.” He finally declared, kicking himself for forgetting her fall. “You have mud all over yourself, sweetheart, and you’re soaked. You’re going to get a chill if you keep sitting in the mud like this.”

She looked down at herself and frowned. “But I wanted to match you…” She muttered, obviously displeased. Claude sighed and took her hand back before kissing her knuckles.

“You’ll always match me, my muse.” He insisted. “My perfect match who even heaven was not worthy of. Please go get changed. For me. I worry about you, as strong as you are.”

She blushed again, but allowed Claude to pull her up and gently push her through the door of his house. He remained outside, waiting to see if he’d get any trick or treaters.

*

Lucia approached the trio of giggling girls, one of whom was attempting to cajole the good doctor into adding a set of sunglasses to his own costume. He was clearly refusing, even though he had accidentally gagged himself with his own costume. Three sets of inhuman eyes snapped towards her (red as fire, a black so deep it felt like staring into the abyss, and fully gold with no pupil to be seen) and they smiled as she approached.

“Char, Sass, Zari.” She greeted, nodding to each of them as she spoke. “Did you all coordinate this outfit, or did you accidentally set your wardrobes on fire and have to steal from Helios?” The girls all giggled, Char eventually pulling up her hoodie conspiratorially and whispering. Lucia leaned closer to hear.

“Hey little lady, wanna buy a sword?” The flames in her eyes danced in mirth, and her two companions howled with laughter. Lucia felt her own mouth ticking up helplessly. 

“Me next, me next!” Zari insisted, regaining enough of her composure to take a deep breath and call out, “Heigh HOOOOOOO!” All three collapsed into laughter again, Char actually grabbing onto Sass to keep her feet.

“You get a sword and YOU get a sword! EVERYONE GETS A SWORD!” Char wheezed out, which caused Zari to shriek in even more laughter while Sass was actually crying from mirth.

“It ain’t no trick, to get rich quick.” Zari gasped, and Sass joined her in the next line, “If you dig dig dig with a shovel or pick.” They were laughing too hard to continue, and Lucia couldn’t help a chuckle of her own. She glanced over towards where Lynn was lingering, totally wrapped up in her soft conversation with her husband. Lucia would have thought they looked like a perfect picture of domestic happiness if not for the way the blonde man’s wings vibrated in irritation.

“My turn.” Sass insisted, taking deep breaths to regain her composure. She drew herself up to her full height. “Industry! Sustainable Forestry! Where is your alchemy table? That chest was organized DON’T TOUCH IT!” They dissolved into a pile of laughter, and it was almost impossible to tell who was who when all of them were wearing jeans, a white hoodie, and sunglasses. Helios snapped his head around, apparently having reached his limits with his friends’ teasing.

“I HATE YOU ALL!” He bellowed at them, scowling. “I’m gonna move to Withergate and Xyla can be my new bestie! You’ll be sorry then!” Lynn smiled at him soothingly and rubbed the back of one hand.

“Speak for yourself.” Xyla broke in, watching from nearby with her arms crossed. “Nobody who buys a drink out from under me gets to be my friend.” She was smirking though, obviously enjoying the show. Helios scowled at her too.

“Excuse you, I’m charming as fuck and no one understands how your city is put together like I do. If I say we’re gonna be besties I’ll make it happen.” Lynn snorted out her own laugh at this, then covered her mouth in shock at her own audacity. Helios turned wounded eyes on her, exaggerated hurt radiating off of him. “E tu, pumpkin?” He placed a hand over his heart like he’d been wounded, and she smiled at him while squeezing the hand he still hadn’t let go of.

“Sorry sweetie,” She replied, still smiling softly at him. “You’re very charming, it’s true. It’s just… If you were really mad at them, you wouldn’t still have that Demon Drink you bought for Sass. You’d have drunk it out of sheer spite, even though you don’t like them.”

He smiled softly at her. “You know me so well, pumpkin.”

Sass made exaggerated gagging noises while Char cooed obnoxiously. Zari elbowed Lucia to get her attention and muttered, “I’m thinking the mine isn’t the only cave he’s exploring when he disappears all day, and it’s probably not just son-ite he’s aiming for…”

Wornhardt laughed so hard he choked on his own costume.

*

“Claude, look!” The musician smiled as he heard a voice more beloved than any sound even his piano could produce and he turned. Then choked.

Ary spread her arms and gave a little twirl. The dinner jacket she was wearing floated around her like the heavenly raiments she had been born to wear, but for once it wasn’t her grace nor her pure soul that held him spellbound.

It was her outfit.

She was wearing his slacks and his shirt with his dinner jacket tying it all together, and she giggled as he felt a possessive surge the likes of which he had never felt before lance through him. She grinned and he could see the tips of tiny fangs gracing her lovely mouth.

“You’re… you’re dressed as… me…” He choked out softly, bewildered and so very happy. Ary beamed at him, not catching his words.

“I’m a vampire!” She giggled, and he very firmly mentally scruffed himself to regain control.

“Ah. Yes. Of course you are. Very nice. That’s… That’s very nice. You look perfect, my muse.” She grinned and bounced over to him, sliding under his arm and cuddling up close. He closed his eyes briefly and prayed for perseverance.

*

“I think it is clear that we have the scariest costumes here.” Wesley commented, gazing around the festivities and sipping at his drink. “Very few others have taken seriously the part of the festivities where the costumes are supposed to be scary. It is baffling.”

“You’re just being a bit too serious.” Sera replied, sipping her own drink and kicking her feet. She was sitting on a fence and resting her legs after a very fun but also very long party. “It’s socially acceptable in the human culture to scare others on Halloween, but some people don’t enjoy that even with permission. Catharine, for example. So they do something a little more fun, a little more whimsical. Everyone still has a great time, so it’s all worth it in the end.”

“And those that do like spooking others?” Wesley asked, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

“Sneak up behind others and splash water on them, shrieking about revenge.” She deadpanned, catching motion out of the corner of her eye. The figure was still too far back even for her flames to light up, so Sera waited patiently, not letting Wesley know she’d seen something. He continued on, talking about how humans didn’t seem to even take their own culture very seriously, before cutting off abruptly as Sera whirled, fire in her hand as she prepared to halt Teleri in her tracks…

Only for Nathaniel to throw himself to the side in a reflexive dodge. Sera had less than a moment to curse the planning put into this before she was utterly enveloped in a very wet hug as a purposely soaked Teleri glomped right onto her back, shrieking with laughter. Steam exploded around them, and for a moment it was all Sera could see. Then Teleri backed off, laughing as she sprawled out against the fence next to Sera. The fire elemental glared at her friend, but Teleri was obviously in too good of a mood to care.

“Oooooh, I got you good.” She crowed, planting a victorious kiss on her husband quickly before turning back to her friend. “You thought you got me, but you didn’t count on my decoy.” She gloated, obviously delighted with herself.

Sera flapped her hand at her dismissively, even as she smiled. “Yes, yes, you’re the sneakiest. You win Halloween. Is that what you want to hear?”

“She does not!” A very indignant hot dog broke in, and Sera blinked at him. Teleri, however, burst into laughter while Nathaniel buried his face in his hands, radiating discomfort.

“She’s… Not?” Sera questioned Donovan, supported by Wesley’s inquiring hum. 

“Noel is.” He proclaimed firmly, looking ready to fight over this.

“Noel is cheating is what they are.” Teleri replied through her laughter. “But I will concede this anyway, that was hilarious.”

“It was not hilarious!” Nathaniel insisted in a muffled voice, his face still hidden in his hands. “I almost punched a kid.”

“Buuut you didn’t.” Teleri shot back, singsongy. “Noel agrees with me anyway, that was hilarious.”

“Noel was great.” Donovan agreed, still incredibly proud. “Dude’s got guts and a steel core. They’re a great sport at things like this.”

“They were pretending to be my WIFE!” Nathaniel pouted. “Of course I swung when I clocked that! It’s totally reasonable that my first thought was spy and not shapeshifter-prankster.”

“Yes dear.” Teleri replied consolingly, hiding her laughter poorly. She patted him on the shoulder in support, but it was clear from his pout that he didn’t appreciate it as he should.

“A shapeshifter?” Wesley asked, suddenly uncomfortable. Sera smiled at him softly, knowing it was his own discomfort with PDA and not a dislike of the shapeshifter in question that caused it. They had talked to Noel briefly earlier in the night, and the two had actually gotten along quite well.

“All is well, beloved.” She soothed, rubbing her fingers over his knuckles. “I am me, don’t worry.”

“But were you all night is the question.” Wesley insisted. “I said… things I do not regret, but would not like others to overhear earlier. I understand it is just a prank in the spirit of the season, but… I would not wish that.”

Donovan narrowed his eyes at the elf like he was trying to decide if he was stupid or not. “Sera has dragged you all over this event and up to just about everyone here. And I do mean dragged.” He glanced pointedly down at their intertwined fingers. “Noel hasn’t pretended to be your wife because she literally hasn’t let go of your hand since you’ve been here. You two are the mushiest couple here and that is saying something.” He stressed. He gestured sideways at the other two. “You’ve even beat out these lovebirds and they keep involving everyone else in their ridiculous flirting to a truly nauseating extent.”

Teleri batted her eyelashes at him. “Awww, are you jealous? You could just tell Noel that, you know. They’d be delighted to come hang out with you. They’re just off playing some weird hide-and-seek hybrid with Cathrine and Vaan, I can go get them if you like?”

Donovan glared at her. “You are insufferable.” He hissed, ineffective at hiding both his jealousy and his fondness. Nathaniel grinned and pulled Teleri closer into his side. 

“I know. Isn’t she just wonderful?”

#sun haven #oc wank #seriously all ocs #Teleri #Zari #Sass #Char #Helios #Tsubaki #Aryllin #Seraphina #my writing #fanfic #Noel

[mybelovedwoo]

in which he is your brave savior

wooyoung x f!reader

fluff, established relationship / wc: 1.3k

warnings: scary clown, scared babies

note: happy halloween guys 🎃 hope you enjoy it! 🫶🏻

wooyoung masterlist - main masterlist

Wooyoung thought that it will be a great idea since Halloween is near and it is both of your favorite holidays if you guys went on a haunted corn maze date in the middle of the night. Ever since you guys started dating you knew that on Wooyoung's side there will never be a boring date, and most of the time he goes out of his way just to make you flattered, but this date you definitely thought about saying no to him and not going.

You loved your boyfriend and Halloween sure, but scary things were your biggest enemy, you got scared very easily. And although Wooyoung acted like a cool guy who doesn't get scared that easily, everybody knew it was very far from the truth. Though he lets you crawl up to him while you watch a horror movie together, and cuddle you all night because you can't sleep after it, deep down he is just as scared as you.

"Honey, please it will be fun at least come here and wait in the line with me, I swear if something's gonna happen I'll be there and I'm going to protect you." At this very moment, you knew you shouldn't give in to him, but you did anyway. You may ask why, but even you didn't know the answer to that. Maybe because of the excitement that came with your relationship and that he always makes life so much fun and you would do things like this only with him or just the love you had for him, who knew?

You stood next to him and you could see that everybody is watching you in the line as if they had never been scared in their life ever. You sled your hands into your boyfriend's as you embraced his whole left arm, just to be sure you can't get lost in there. "I already hate you so much." You told him.

"I love you too, you'll see we're going to laugh about it tomorrow."

As you stepped into the maze you were faced with such darkness, you hated it. In the beginning, you already had an important decision to make, to either go left or right. You thought you're gonna let Wooyoung have fun, and make those decisions since he was the one who wanted this anyway, but you just had a feeling that he made a big mistake when you turned right.

You weren't fully walking beside him, but a little behind him, fully snuggled against his back. You could clearly hear the scream from not that far away in the maze, and all you could think of was that this was what is waiting for you. You've never seen Wooyoung being this quiet ever, you knew too well to tell he is scared as well, but he doesn't want to show it in front of you, or else you would tease him about it for a long time, and he could not let that happen.

You swear you already turned left like ten times, how does that even work? But at the eleventh time, he decided to turn right, and all you could hear was screaming like bloody murder and your hands slipped out from his hands. You immediately closed your eyes, when you saw that terrifying clown with a knife running straight up to you. You didn't know what happened after that because you couldn't see anything and of course, couldn't hear anything either because of your own screaming.

When the screaming finally stopped and you couldn't hear any more noise you slowly opened your eyes. There were no more clowns, but there were no more Wooyoung either. You couldn't believe your boyfriend, how he told you that he will protect you from anything and the first thing he did was leave you there.

But suddenly you felt a pair of hands resting on the low of your back, you were praying that it was not that god damn clown. But when you turned around you saw your boyfriend crouching behind you, using you as a shield. Wow, your brave savior, he was basically ready to sacrifice you at the first opportunity.

"Babe, what are you doing? Aren't you supposed to protect me?" You told him while you folded your arms in front of yourself. 

"Wah, I really got surprised, I didn't expect him to just jump out all of a sudden..." He finally stood up and of course, pouted while speaking.

"Suprised?" You raised your eyebrows questioning him, you were already ready to tease him. "I think it was a little more than surprised, it looked like you got more terrified than me and I was the one who protected you." 

"No-no you misunderstand it, I wasn't that scared actually." Yeah sure...

You spend the way out telling him how you are much braver than he is, and that you can't believe that he was about to sacrifice you to that clown and that any other boyfriend would protect their girlfriends. Of course, the maze wasn't that easy, so it took you a good thirty minutes to get out, but fortunately, you didn't run into another scary clown on the way. 

Wooyoung didn't let go of your hands once since then, telling you "he's never gonna make that mistake again, and gonna protect you at all cost" but you knew that it was for his own good, because you are his comfort.

-

"WOO!!!" You screamed at the top of your lungs from the kitchen. Wooyoung was in your bedroom, while you were washing the dishes, at least that is what he thought you do.

Your boyfriend sprinted through your apartment thinking you hurt yourself once again since you were in the kitchen all by yourself.

"Baby, what's wrong?" He stood in front of you in no time, you were actually impressed. His worried expression dropped quickly as he saw your face sheepishly smiling. "What?" He asked you as he was expecting the worst. He all of your smiles, and their meanings, and this one belonged to the 'Y/n's worst ideas' category. 

"Our costume came." Your smile grew, and you couldn't be more excited. 

"Our costume?" No matter how much he tried to remember that you discussed this year's Halloween costume, he couldn't recall it. It must be because you never told him about it, you wanted it to be a surprise.

"I thought we should have a matching costume for the party at the company this weekend" Wooyoung's company, kq threw a Halloween party every year for the boys to relax a bit from all the hard work, and the previous years he always told you about it last minute, and your costume wasn't the best, to be honest "so I bought these" you took out the costumes behind your back. 

"What is that?" He asked you while he ripped it out of your hands to take a closer look at it.

"Babe, it's rapunzel and flynn rider, my favorite disney couple." You were a bit disappointed that he didn't know what was it, since you watched the movie with him multiple times, and he should know about your favorite disney movie. All your friends say that your guy's relationship is just like theirs, and you couldn't stop thinking about it ever since.

"Ohh" This was all he said. To be honest you expected a more exciting reaction from him since it's your first couple costume, and you know how much he loves matching outfits with you every now and then. "I thought we would dress up to something more sexier or maybe scarier, but it's not that bad I guess."

"I give up, next year I'm gonna matching costumes with Seonghwa instead."

-

taglist* @laylasbunbunny @yeow6n (you can message me if you want to be added or removed)

#wooyoung #ateez #jung wooyoung #wooyoung fanfic #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung imagine #wooyoung x you #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez imagine #ateez fanfic #wooyoung established relationship #wooyoung bf #wooyoung boyfriend