#I love green spooky lighting

[dvcky-duck]

babababa babab

"I decided to experiment a lil bit w my art style it's prolly not one I'll use often" *proceeds to draw in said art style for 2 weeks and 4 days* it's honestly been a while since I've drawn in the shows style and I find that fascinating-

bonus doodle:

[what-haunts-an-eccedentesiast]

We just do it better 🖤🥀

[notbecauseofvictories]

[ Rosehill Cemetery, Chicago Illinois — October 2023 ]

[mer-se]

peace place 🤍

[blackenedsnow]

I would love it if you did some werehog sonic for spooky season. Maybe he doesn't want reader to know it's him but they find out anyway and comfort him (idk I just need more werehog sonic in my life)

moonlight

WARNING: None

PAIRING: Sonic the Hedgehog x Reader

NOTE: Thanks for sending in this request! I had so much fun writing this guy. Let’s keep the spooky season going!!!

SUMMARY: Sonic never wanted you to see him like this. He had been doing everything to hide his Werehog form from you.

You hadn’t seen Sonic in almost two days, and it was starting to worry you.

Normally, Sonic would pop in to check on you, even if just for a quick chat before zipping off to wherever his next adventure called. But lately, his visits had become scarce, and when he did show up, it was always during the day—never at night.

Something was off, and you could feel it.

You asked Tails about it, and he told you that he still saw Sonic around until the evening, which he found odd, but he never questioned it.

Now it was late in the evening, the sun having set hours ago, leaving the landscape bathed in shadows. You stood by the window, staring out at the full moon hanging in the sky, the eerie light casting long, dark silhouettes across the ground. A shiver ran down your spine, but you weren’t sure if it was the chill in the air or the nagging feeling that something was very wrong.

“Where are you, Sonic?” you muttered to yourself.

A sudden noise from outside caught your attention—a rustling in the bushes near the edge of the clearing. You squinted, trying to make out what it was, but the shadows were too thick. Then you saw it—a large, hulking figure darting behind a tree.

Your heart jumped. It was too big to be Sonic—or anyone else you knew. But something about the shape seemed... familiar.

Grabbing a flashlight, you headed out into the night, determination outweighing the fear gnawing at the back of your mind. You had to find out what was going on.

As you made your way through the trees, the sound of heavy breathing reached your ears, low and raspy. You stopped in your tracks, heart pounding, the beam of your flashlight sweeping across the dark woods. Finally, the light landed on a pair of glowing eyes—bright, green.

There, crouched in the shadows, was a massive, wolf-like creature. Its fur was dark and shaggy, its body rippling with muscle, and its sharp claws dug into the ground as if it was ready to bolt at any second.

But those eyes... you knew those eyes.

“Sonic?” you whispered, the flashlight slipping from your hand and falling to the ground with a soft thud.

The creature flinched at the sound of your voice, as if caught, and slowly stood to its full height. There was no mistaking it now—the familiar cocky stance, the slight tilt of the head, even in this monstrous form, you could see the hints of the Sonic you knew.

But Sonic didn’t say a word. He took a step back, as if trying to retreat into the darkness, away from your gaze.

You stepped forward, undeterred. “Sonic, I know it’s you.”

He froze, shoulders tense, his clawed hands curling into fists as he kept his eyes lowered, refusing to meet your gaze.

“I—” His voice was different, deeper, rougher, but it was still unmistakably him. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his tone. He had always been so confident, so sure of himself, and seeing him like this—scared, ashamed—it was a side of Sonic you had never seen before.

You approached slowly, careful not to startle him, but determined to close the gap between you. “Sonic, why are you hiding from me?”

He let out a low growl, though it was more frustrated than threatening. “Because... look at me!” His voice rose, and for the first time, he looked at you fully. “I’m not... I’m not me. Not like this.”

Your eyes softened as you took in his appearance. Yes, he looked different, but underneath the fur and claws, he was still Sonic—still the same hero you had known for so long. And the fact that he was trying so hard to hide this side of himself from you broke your heart.

“You’re still you, Sonic,” you said softly, stepping closer until you were just a few feet away.

He shook his head, turning away again. “I’m a monster.”

“You’re not,” you insisted, reaching out slowly to touch his arm. His fur was coarse, but warm, and you could feel the tension in his muscles as if he was expecting you to recoil. But you didn’t.

Instead, you gave him a gentle squeeze. “You’re not a monster, Sonic. You’re still you, no matter what you look like.”

Sonic was silent for a long moment, his body still trembling slightly under your touch. Finally, he sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. “You’re not... scared?”

You smiled softly. “Of course not. Why would I be scared of you?”

Sonic let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. The relief in his eyes was evident, though he still looked unsure, as if he couldn’t quite believe you weren’t running away from him. “I didn’t want you to see this,” he admitted quietly. “I thought you’d think I was... I don’t know. Dangerous?”

You stepped in front of him, forcing him to meet your eyes. “Sonic, you’re the least dangerous person I know. You’d never hurt anyone—especially not me.”

His ears twitched, and he finally met your gaze fully, the glow in his green eyes softening. “Yeah, well... I guess I’m not as good at hiding as I thought,” he muttered, a small, sheepish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You laughed softly. “No, you’re not. But I’m glad I found you.”

Sonic huffed, though it was more playful this time. “You always were too smart for your own good.”

There was a brief pause before Sonic shifted awkwardly, still not quite comfortable in his Werehog form, but no longer trying to hide it from you. “So, uh... now that you’ve seen me like this, I guess you don’t mind hanging out with a big ol’ werewolf looking thing, huh?”

You smiled warmly. “Not at all. In fact, I think it suits you.”

Sonic blinked, surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, you’re still fast, still strong, and now you’ve got extra muscles and claws. It’s like Sonic... but enhanced.”

Sonic chuckled, the sound more like a growl in his Werehog form. “Huh, never thought about it that way.”

You reached up, gently brushing a stray tuft of fur from his face. “You don’t have to hide from me, Sonic.”

For the first time since his transformation, Sonic seemed to relax completely. His broad shoulders slumped in relief, and the anxious edge that had been lingering in his eyes disappeared. “Thanks,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “I guess I needed to hear that.”

You smiled up at him. “Anytime.”

[harmoonix]

🪄Hocus Pocus🧹

🎃 Halloween - Astro Observations 🎃

~In life there are bitches, there are snitches,

but there is nothing as good as WITCHES~

🎃 Libra Moon/Venus/Mercury have a soft love language. They often like to share the same love language as other people

☠️ Scorpio Rising in your solar return chart can indicate a year where you will experience rebirth/death themes in your life, something is leaving, and something new is coming

👻 Placements in the 9th house deserve the 'witch' title since it is the house of magic and occult, moon/pluto, or venus in the 9th house can give witch vibes

🖤 10th or 6th hosue ruler in the 9th hosue can make a job out of magic/spirituality even occult, tarot readers, astrologers and spiritual gurus can share these placements

💚 Earth Moons and Rising fit the 'green witch' archetype, healing witch, herbal witch, using plants and nature in your power

❤️ To fire risings, how they look plays a big role in their personality and the way they show themselves to the world. Fire Risings always love to present themselves

💜 For Air Risings and Mercury, their personality can be enchanting, air rules over communication and expression. They're the ones with a cool personality

💯 Pluto aspecting Sun or Ascendant can give you the aura or vibe of a villain. Even if that's not what you are, people can perceive it that way

🧹 I love it when people associate Capricorn with endings because that's what Saturn is all about. Where you have Capricorn in your chart is something you need to end

🪄 Sometimes, the 4th house ruler in the 9th house or 8th house can indicate that family members were also practicing witchcraft but also losing family members (if it is connected with the 8th house)

🐈‍⬛ Pluto Dominants have the luck of a black cat, always perceived the wrong way, always in the negative yet powerful energy

🕸 I observed Scorpio Moons really love to keep it all for themselves, which is so common among the Scorpio Placements, so secretive

🫶🏼 Mercury in the 12th house can be a very spooky placement manifesting as hearing, seeing, or sensing entities/ghosts, etc. It's a haunted house placement

🤎 Mercury in the 8th house or Mercury in Scorpio can be recognized by their deep/ gloomy voices, can posses a raspy voice

🌓 Those born on the last quarter of the moon (moon phase) nay have the tendency to cling up the past, especially when they're afraid to change for the better

🫦 Sun in the 10th house natives make sure to always be seen in a good light, and thats how they gain attention. Those people who never do wrong, to an extent they don't want ppl to see that

👻 Sun in the 3rd, 5th, or 11th house natives love to do crafts or creative things such as DIY because they always find something creative to do

🩶 Mercury aspecting Venus natives can be into finding other people's voice attractive/sensual/magnetic

💀 Pluto x Mercury aspects possess a very dark and deep humor. Making jokes not everyone gets/ understands

👹 Aries Placements, but especially Risings and Mars love to play the dominant card even though deep down they like when they're more soft with others

👾 Juno in the 5th spouse can share the same talents as you, sharing similar childhoods, similar view of a relationship

🩵 Sagittarius Juno all the way up standing there beside Aquarius Juno for having different relationships rather than a traditional one (my fav Juno placements)

🤬 Malefics in the 3rd house like Saturn, Pluto, or Mars can influence the native to be more harsh in their talk, communication, and self - expression

🎃 Moon in the 1st house can make your face, especially the cheeks, more prominent and overall a very shiny skin

🐈‍⬛ Pluto in your 11th house can give a dark energy in the way ppl see you. You can affect them deeply, they will not get you out of their heads

🩶 Saturn in the 7th house [If it's retrogade] can indicate more lessons in the area of relationships, spouse, the downfall of a slow relationship (you can't stop the tears from falling down..lol)

🪄 Saturn aspecting the Venus natives sometimes expects the worst in a relationship/situationship to happen. Overthinking if they're good enough

💙 Water Risings and Moons, telling their feelings early in a relationship matters a lot. They want their partners to feel the same things as them

🌙 You can find a comfort place in people who have their 4th house sign in the same sign as your 1st house

🎃 If both partners share the same Chiron Sign, they'll share the same wounds, pain, and suffering, but at the same time, they will heal the same wound

💢 Natives who will have their 9th house sign in the same sign as your Sun will want to teach you. They will want to share the same values with you

╰╮🎃╭╯🪄╰╮🎃╭╯

Halloween in my opinion will always have its magic, It doesn't matter how you celebrate, whether with horror movies, sweets or decorations, it's important to keep it in the heart.

I hope you had an amazing October month from the first to the last day!! 🎃🎃🪄

By: @harmoonix 🎃🪄 October 2024!!!

[kingkat12]

... had a hunch (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: sex, piv sex, vampire sex, rough(?) sex, slight choking, light gore, angst, breaking and entering, Roman being creepy (ofc), stalking, blood, reader needs to lock her damn window

summary: in the light of the murder of Brooke Bluebell, you are starting to get paranoid-- is someone watching you? and if so, who is it?

word count: 11,472

never have I ever: ← previous chapter

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*book 1 masterlist

a/n: this chapter has been SO FUN to write AHHH!!! and this is also the hottest gif ever, shoutout to Niki<33 ENJOYYYYY!!<3333

I was used to being lonely, which is why it was so odd to wake up with a feeling that I wasn't alone.

Rubbing my eyes with haste at the sound of my alarm clock going off, I blinked over and over to make sure that the chair in the corner of my room wasn't occupied. Had I seen a shadow just now, or was that just the remainder of sleep in my eye? 

The chair was empty. Still. Perfectly still in the corner, just as it had been ever since the day I bought it. Nonetheless, I stayed sitting upright, covers twisted at my waist, heart thudding without a clear reason. There was nothing wrong-- not really. My door was shut. My window cracked just enough to let in the night air, same as always. Everything was where it should be, and yet, I had the distinct sense that someone had just slipped out a second before I stirred.

It must've been all the talk about the serial killer from Iowa, surely. Maybe even a touch of vargulf. Roman's manic ramblings must've gotten to me. If I was having nightly vampire dream-sex, I wouldn't dismiss my mind making up similar spooky things while awake. 

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, toes brushing the cold floor. A whisper of chill breeze clung to the air like it hadn't had time to fade yet; autumn must be right around the corner, now. I didn't usually get scared in my own room, I didn't get paranoid, but something about last night, calling him, had loosened something in me I couldn't put back together.

My eyes drifted back to the chair. It was empty, unmoved, yet the vague impression of warmth, or presence, still curled around the corners of the room like smoke. I shook my head and stood up, brushing it all off-- it had just been a dream. Or was it a guilt-hangover from calling Roman like that, so late, so needy? Ugh, what the fuck had I done? How was I supposed to face him at school today?

With a light groan, I stepped toward the bathroom, but something made me glance down.

The faintest imprint, a scuff maybe, or the softened shape of a shoe, was pressed into the carpet just beside my window.

... Oh. 

I didn't let myself stare. I didn't let myself believe it. This was paranoia. A killer was on the loose in Hemlock Grove after all-- of course I was going insane. This was just my imagination. Hysteria?

I knew what could calm me down; my favourite little detour on my way to school.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The usual hues of sunlight shone through the thickness of the trees as I kicked at a nearby chestnut-- this had almost become a ritual whenever I came to Richmond Park.

I wasn't here often, but recently, this place had become a shrine to what had been, and what could've been; staring ahead at the tree where I had carved mine and Roman's initials all that time ago, I brought the cigarette to my lips, committing to my new smoking addiction, completely alone in the outskirts of the forest with a killer on the loose. Reckless. If I were dying on the inside, then I supposed that the monument of my love could join me in death. Kamikaze, bitches.

Last night's phone call lingered in my brain, making me cringe. What had I done? At least I got it confirmed that Roman still thought of me, dreamed of me. As I kept staring at the tree like a complete lunatic, I remembered the last time I was here with him...

"I'll be better for you," Roman's green eyes met mine, his grip around my waist loosening before he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me flush against him. "Whatever Letha says about me, I need you to not believe it. I'm asking you to kill me, in a sense."

"What?--"

"I want you to make me so sick that I die in your arms," Roman let out a shaky breath, leaning his forehead against mine as his eyes closed shut. "I think it'd make me feel good. I don't want to be so bitter and angry all the time... and I feel good with you. Really good."

My heart swelled as I brought my hands up to cup his face, my thumbs stroking over his cheeks as we stood still. There were leaves rustling in the distance, and a sweltering breeze that passed us briefly, but all in all, it was just Roman and I in this deserted area of the park. I could easily agree that it felt good, that it felt right-- just my pretty boyfriend and me.

I got up on my tippytoes, pulling Roman in for a gentle kiss. It made my heart swell, made the tips of my fingers burn as I felt his cold breath against my cheek when he exhaled through his nose.

Roman's hands pushed against the small of my back, drawing me in as close as humanly possible. The kiss deepened with every breath, with every pull of the other-- "Choose us," he pleaded, mouthing his words into my lips. "Me and you. Us."

I shivered-- if only I had listened to him.

My cigarette was halfway burnt, the ash curling dangerously close to my knuckles, but I couldn't even feel it anymore. My head was spinning, my heart was aching-- I just wanted everything to go back to how it was, to the time when I would fall asleep with Roman's head on my chest, my fingers stroking through his hair, with his arms wrapped around me... fucking Letha.

But then, amid my sulking, I heard it; the crunch of leaves behind me. 

I froze.

It wasn't soft or casual, like a jogger or someone out for a walk. It was deliberate, heavy, like weight shifting from paw to paw.

I whipped around, my heart stalling in my chest, cigarette tumbling from my fingers. My eyes scanned the dense line of trees behind me, but it was already darker there, the canopy of trees hiding what little light the gray sky would give. The shuffle of leaves murmured quietly behind me, and suddenly, every rustle sounded like it was breathing. Maybe Roman was right? Maybe there truly was a vargulf on the loose?

The more I searched, the less I found. I concluded that it was nothing, as always-- still, something about the air had shifted. It was thicker now, watching me; I hated how quickly my brain fell for Roman's stupid wolf theories. 

I told myself it was nonsense, but I suddenly couldn't stop imagining it. Was this the same thing I had sensed in my room this morning? The yellow eyes, the saliva, the torn skin-- why did Roman's great-grandfather's drawings have to be so grotesquely detailed? Damn the darn Godfreys.

Another sharp crack of a branch-- my whole body flinched. "Jesus Christ," I huffed, stomping down on an innocent leaf before quickly making my way back to my car. Of course there was no such thing as a vargulf, or werewolf, or whatever, but...

I wasn't about to risk it.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

For the first time in a while, I was excited to get out to school; it would hopefully distract me from this odd morning.

The parking lot was already filled up when I pulled in much later than usual, the early morning sun slanting hard across the windshield and making everything look too bright. I killed the engine and just sat there for a second, gripping the steering wheel, trying to decide whether it was stupid or brave to ask Roman to come today. Was he going to? Would we talk? Would he end up sticking his tongue down some girl's throat in front of me again? I hoped not. God, how I hoped not. 

Dread and excitement piled up in my stomach as I stepped out, trying to dig the car key out of my pocket and lock the door before I could overthink any of it. I was so deep in my head, I didn't even notice the sudden giggles rolling through the lot until it was too late.

Why would a bunch of girls be giggling to themselves with delight at 08:13 in the morning? I should've known.

There he was, Roman Godfrey, walking like he was above gravity, like he didn't belong to the pavement under his boots. His backpack hung loosely over one shoulder, his dark jacket falling open just enough to hint at the grey Henley beneath it-- collar loose, like he didn't care how indecently good it looked on him. His brown hair kissed his forehead, gelled like he didn't have time, like he didn't give a damn, messier than usual, catching the morning light in just the right places.

A group of girls buzzed around him; cheerleaders mostly, the usual gang. Lips glossed, laughing, one of them gripping his bicep as she giggled at something he didn't say. He wasn't even looking at them-- he didn't need to. Actually, Roman looked annoyed as hell. I wondered whether the group of girls sometimes felt like the paparazzi; they certainly never gave him a moment's worth of peace. Did some part of him like it, though? I bet. 

And then, somehow, Roman's piercing green eyes found mine through the noise. 

Of course.

He saw me through the sea of laughing girls, and everything else just... vanished. The parking lot, the cars, the sound-- gone. I stood frozen by my car, clutching my car keys, lips parted as my heart abused the inner linings of my ribs. 

Roman didn't smile, didn't blink. His gaze was so still, so direct, that it felt like being pinned in place by something invisible, like he could hear everything I was thinking. Nothing in that darn upir book said anything about mind-reading, so I concluded that I had to be safe from that, at least. However, I knew for certain that he could hear my heart. Fuck. 

And standing there, in the middle of a crowded high school parking lot, I felt it all hit me like a second heartbeat-- hot, aching, shameful. I wanted him back. God, how I wanted him back, how I wanted it to not be like this, how I wanted to go back in time. Why were the cheerleaders clinging to my Roman? I wanted to rip them to pieces, limb by limb, every single one of them, systematically. Shouldn't they be in mourning over their captain, Brooke? Shouldn't they be sobbing in a corner somewhere, and not slobbering over Roman? I was honestly two seconds from tossing my car keys at the blonde bimbo to his left-- maybe I'd manage to jab the metal into her temple? Sideways lobotomy. Was that a thing?

As my wrath came to a simmer, and as my heart threatened to explode at the sight of Roman's full mouth, his big eyes, the broadness of his shoulders, the way he carried himself, the fact that he was here, that he had showed up, that he had done this tiny little thing for me, someone said his name and touched his other arm-- he looked away, and just like that, the spell snapped.

I exhaled so suddenly that it made me lightheaded. Roman kept walking, swallowed up by the crowd; the pom-poms followed, their voices rising again like nothing had happened, like I wasn't standing here as though struck by lightning. 

And just as I realized that the parking lot had nearly emptied, that I had stood here simmering in the aftermath for a bit too long, and that I was about to be late to class, an unexpected voice cut through the fog; "I wonder who forced him to come in today,"

Jolting, I turned toward the sound.

Letha stood there, leaning against my car with her arms crossed over her chest, sleeves pushed up on that stupidly expensive lilac sweater she always wore when she wanted to look soft-- she didn't look soft now, though. Quite the contrary, she looked like something had scraped her out from the inside and left just the shape behind; her eyes were sunken, her skin was paler than usual, and she had a quiet look about her that I hadn't seen before. Usually, she was a flame that burned bright, but now?

None of that mattered. 

I didn't care if she was sad. I didn't care if she was haunted. Snorting, I stuffed my car key into my backpack, refusing to keep looking at Letha. "You have quite the nerve," I hissed. "Go away. I don't want to talk to you."

"Aunt Olivia doesn't really have any influence over Roman anymore," Letha continued as though she hadn't heard me. "So it can't have been her. Was it you? Are you two talking again?"

"Fuck off," I adjusted my backpack before rounding my car, avoiding walking past Letha, yet she followed. Her expensive boots clicked lightly against the pavement as she trailed after me, not fast enough to be chasing, but close enough to make my skin crawl. I didn't look back-- I wouldn't give her that much.

"You know," she went on, voice quieter now. "It's kind of poetic. You dragged him out of bed and into the sun... That's a big deal for a upir."

"Shut up," I snapped over my shoulder-- I didn't want to have the upir conversation with Letha again, and especially not this openly for anyone to hear. All she ever did was lie, anyway.

"I mean it," she continued. "Roman listens to you."

"He can be in the sun," I spat, clutching my backpack harder.

Letha hummed behind me, shrugging to herself; "Yeah, I know. But I'm just saying, despite everything that's happened, he obviously still loves you, so... I can't have messed everything up that bad?" 

The disgust that tore through my body was indescribable. There was something so vile, so insensitive, so disgusting about the way her words were formulated, like she had been waiting all week to find the perfect moment to ambush me and try to wash herself free of the guilt that was clearly ravaging her-- no. 

Balling my hands into fists, I turned around on my heel, stopping in my tracks, and watched as  Letha did the same with a bit of a wince, like she was convinced I would strike her if she moved a muscle. 

"Oh, you little piece of--" I stopped. Inhaled. Squeezed my eyes shut. Through gritted teeth, I continued; "If it is sympathy you're looking for, I suggest you start rummaging through the trash. You fucked up. Face it."

Letha blinked at me, and I quickly noticed the smear of mascara under one of her eyes. Her mouth parted like she might say something else, something apologetic, or worse, burst into tears. "I didn't ruin everything," she breathed, mostly to herself, like a chant that would calm her down. "This is fixable. You and Roman still have a chance."

I had no pity to offer. No consolation, none whatsoever. "Roman and I weren't supposed to only have a chance," I echoed. "We were supposed to be forever. Fuck you for meddling with that."

Letha's glossy, green eyes stuck to me like the cigarette smoke I had grown to depend on-- ugly and clinging, and something I'd smell on my clothes for the rest of the day. 

I adjusted my backpack over my shoulder, sniffling before landing my last blow; "Honestly, Letha? I wish it had been you that night, and not Brooke."

Something in me shifted-- I hadn't expected to blurt that out. I didn't want to see the aftermath of that sentence, along with the look of shock on Letha's face, so with all the hatred I could muster in my body, I turned again and walked toward the school. 

Thankfully, Letha didn't follow.

She probably didn't want to anymore.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I wasn't paying attention-- of course.

Mr. Deacon was talking about monks in the Middle Ages that I didn't give a crap about, but all I could think about was Roman's haunting eyes in the parking lot. With my elbow propped on the desk, with my head in my hand, I wondered whether I'd catch a glimpse of him in the hallway after this period, whether he was still avoiding me, or worse, not avoiding me-- maybe I just didn't interest him in the way I did before? Maybe my pathetic phone call last night had given him the ick?

However... he had mentioned that he dreamed of me too.

Nothing upir related, though, I was sure of it-- or was I? Perhaps we were having the same dream? I doubted that, but amid my severe boredom (and trying to distract myself from my earlier run-in with Letha), this was the only topic that distracted me well enough to tune out Mr. Deacon's voice.

It was the second-to-last period; my chances of speaking to Roman today were running out. At this point, I'd settle for walking past him in the hall, another look, a brush of his shoulder against mine as he nudged his way through the crowd-- honestly, I would take anything to keep from feeling like he had slipped entirely through my fingers.

The tip of my pen hovered over my notebook, and I was about to try to sketch something, maybe his eyes, until suddenly, the intercom buzzed; it crackled overhead like it had been zapped alive. 

"Attention, students of Hemlock Grove High. Please remain calm,"

... Oh no. 

My stomach turned, my head tilted up as the entire class stilled, and Mr. Deacon turned toward the speaker like he wasn't sure he'd heard it right.

"Due to an ongoing investigation, school will be dismissed immediately. All students are required to gather their belongings and make arrangements to go home. Teachers, check your emails for further instructions,"

The air went thin. For a second, no one moved-- it was like everyone was waiting for someone else to react first. Then, within the blink of an eye, chairs screeched against the floor, backpacks zipped with urgency, and phones were already out, faces glowing in the blue wash of screen light as everyone hurried to get out of the classroom. There was an odd atmosphere in the air, where people were unsure whether to be happy about the dismissal or worried about the reason why, and as I followed the stream out into the hallway, I tried to pick up on the chatter;

"What happened?"

"Oh my God--"

"-- They found a body in that park!--"

"Another girl?"

"-- In the woods, check Twitter!"

My brain scrambled to fill in the blanks. I had a bad feeling about which park the new girl could've been murdered at. The worst part was that I felt like I already knew; I just knew, in that same cold, nauseating way you know something before anyone says it out loud. Could it have happened in the same woods where I had been less than four hour ago, where the trees were thick enough to swallow sound, where I had stood with a cigarette in hand beside that stupid fucking tree with our initials carved in it?

... Were my suspicions correct? Was I being watched?

With these questions in mind, my heart thrummed in my chest, my chest aching as I clutched my phone, feeling it vibrate. Then the most damning thought landed, hard and unshakable; what if I was supposed to be next?

Just as I was about to properly spiral, now pressed from all sides in the crammed hallway, halfway to a proper panic-attack, I got nudged with a force so harsh, I let out a whimper of pain and spun to face the violent perpetrator; "Hey!" I barked, taking a few steps in the other direction of the swarm around me. "Watch where you're going, jackass!"

But the second the nudger turned around fully, the incoming words snagged in my throat.

It was Peter.

Only, it wasn't really Peter; not the one I knew. Not the same, sarcastic Peter who always had a smartass comment cocked and ready-- this version of him looked half-gone. His dark, soft waves were flattened with sweat or sleep or both, his skin waxy and tight across the bones of his face. And to make it even more eerie, his eyes were rimmed dark, hollowed out like he hadn't closed them in days. All in all, he looked like someone who had seen a ghost and never quite recovered.

Then, without warning, Peter grabbed my shoulders, his fingers digging in hard enough to make me flinch, like he needed to anchor me in place. His grip was cold and trembling as he spoke; "You need to go home now,"

"I'm-- yeah, I'm on my way now, but what's?--"

"Don't try to investigate anything, okay?" Peter panted. "Keep Roman in check, and just-- where's Letha?"

With the mention of her name, I wafted Peter's hands off me, huffing as I shivered. "Fuck off, dude! What's wrong with you? I saw Letha a few hours ago, but she's not the one who was!--"

Peter stared at me like he wanted me to shut up, so I did. But then, just like that, he shook his head; "Never mind," he muttered, twitching. "Forget it. Just-- be careful, okay?"

Before I could argue, he turned and melted back into the chaos like smoke. No explanation, no real answer-- Peter left me standing there, stomach hollow with unease. 

The crowd of students was making me claustrophobic, their chatter buzzing against my ears like a swarm of flies. I pushed through, elbow-first, heart still slamming against my ribs as I moved toward the parking lot, barely feeling the cold air when I finally shoved the door open and stumbled outside. 

Had another girl seriously been killed? Was this a rumour, was this real? Who could it have been? 

My fingers were trembling as I unlocked my car, the weight of what Peter had said, along with what he hadn't said, dragging behind me like a shadow. My keys slipped in my grip, clattered once against the side door, and when I finally got them in, yanked the handle open, and sat down in the driver's seat--

Knock, knock, knock.

The harsh tapping against my window set me off, and I'm embarrassed to admit that I screamed-- actually screamed.

With one hand over my heart, I leaned over, panting as I rolled my window down. "You scared the shit out of me!" I barked, clutching my chest as I glanced up at my intruder. 

Roman didn't flinch at my yelling, but he didn't apologize either-- he didn't usually do either of those things. He leaned into the open window like he owned the air I was breathing, one hand braced on the roof of my car as he looked down at me with that sharp, pissed-off expression. His green eyes were darker than usual, and his hair caught the last gasp of sunlight like a halo of obsidian. "You pulled into the parking lot late this morning," he said, low, deliberate. "Where the hell were you?

I blinked, still trying to breathe. "Are you kidding me, Roman?"

"No," he said, voice flat, green gaze unmoving. "Where were you?"

"... I took a bit of a detour," I didn't mean to sound defensive, but it felt somehow unavoidable; "Not a big deal. I've been doing that all week, not that you'd care to notice."

Roman's fingers twitched where they gripped the edge of the car, glaring down at me with that patronizing look I loved and hated. "Where?"

I sighed; "Remember where I went crazy and carved our initials into that tree?"

"Richmond park?"

"Yep. But I had this weird feeling that someone was watching me while I was there, and now... now someone's dead,"

"... Fuck," Roman pulled back just an inch, like my confession had knocked something loose in him. His jaw clenched, and I could see the pulse ticking in his neck-- could he hear mine right now? "That's where they found the new girl."

"Crap. I knew it," I breathed, shifting in my seat to make myself more comfortable; that was almost impossible in the presence of the beauty of my ex-boyfriend. "Do you know who it was?"

Roman sighed, folding his arms against my window ledge, resting his chin there as he stared back at me with that focused look I knew too well, green eyes gazing back at mine. "No, but I'll find out,"

He said it like a promise, a promise I loathed for his sake, but there was something heavy underneath-- it was almost as though he didn't believe it had happened again, and that we hadn't gotten far enough in our investigation to stop it. For a second, just a second, he didn't look like Roman Godfrey; the heir, the nightmare, the heartbreaker. Now, he looked like a boy too young to carry everything he did.

"Rome..." I tried, softer now. My fingers hovered near the window ledge before I slowly reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead. It was wind-tousled and glossy, catching the last of the light like black silk. I don't know what made me do it-- habit, maybe. Care. Stupidity?

I felt Roman tense beneath my touch, but he didn't pull away; that gave me enough hope to go on. His big, green eyes rounded out like he couldn't believe he was letting me do this, so I chose my next words wisely; "You should be careful," I murmured, thumb brushing the line of his temple. "I know you have that direct line to the police intercom, but... I told you I don't want you to do this alone. What if you hop in, and I can take you back to my place, so we can check it out together? My parents will only be happy to see you, and you can stay for dinner, and--"

Roman recoiled like I had struck him.

Not violently, no-- just quick, sharp, like his body had made the decision before his brain could. He straightened fully from the window, tapping his hand twice on the roof of my car before he took a step back. "Don't," he said. The word was quiet, but it hit harder than a shout. 

My heart clenched in a manner I was way too used to these days; "I wasn't-- I didn't mean--"

"I'll go figure out who it was," Roman said, shaking his head once, twice. "Get home safe, okay? Text me when you get there."

"But--"

"I know it takes sixteen minutes from here to your house, so if I don't get a text by that time, I'm calling your mom to confirm that you're home," 

I gasped; "Roman, what the fuck?!--"

He cut me off with a swift, dismissive motion of his hand, no longer the brooding, impossible Roman I knew, but someone who just needed control, order, and something to hold onto in the chaos. "Just stay put," he ordered, his green eyes locking onto mine. "I'm going to be careful, but only if you go home with no detours."

Blinking, I didn't know what else to do than nod. There was no way in hell I'd go through having one more conversation with my mom about why Roman and I broke up, which I knew would be triggered if he called her. 

"But you two were so perfect for each other!" Oh, I know. "Did he do something wrong?" Well... "I bet he'd take you back if it was somehow your fault, you two just need to talk to one another!" Too late for that. "Young love... unnecessarily complicated. I don't miss it." No shit, mom. 

I sighed; "Ugh, fine... Just please don't call my mom, because then she's going to think it's okay to call you and ask you to come over for dinner all the time, and... I don't need my mom playing matchmaker in the middle of this," 

With that, Roman smirked-- just the faintest crack in his armour as he took a step back, his eyes never leaving mine. "Deal," 

Then, without another word, Roman turned and disappeared down the parking lot, leaving me alone with my racing heart and a sudden appetite for dinner. I did my best not to stare at him as he walked away, scanning the broadness of his back, how good his legs looked in those light jeans--

Oh, I needed to sink my teeth into something, alright.

... Preferably Roman's shoulders, but dinner would do for now.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

"Why would anyone love a monster?" Roman whispered-- and that was when I knew I was back in the dream. 

However, there was something new about the way he moved tonight, with slightly hesitant strokes, like he didn't quite trust himself. I could only whimper against Roman's shoulder, clinging harder, like I could pull the doubt out from his back with my fingers, like I could dig deep enough to reach the part of him that still believed he was capable of goodness, of true love. 

But then, in the midst of the daze, in the midst of my pleasure, the dream diverted and diverged down a different road, one it had never taken before--

"Because," I breathed. "You're not a monster."

Roman stilled, like the sentence had stunned something vital in him. His breath caught, hot and shallow, before he pulled forward and kissed me like I had blasphemed, like I had dared to call the devil a saint, and he wanted to make sure no one else heard my sin. "Gonna-- Gonna keep you safe," he murmured against my lips. "Gonna love you-- forever."

Forever.

Even dream-sequence Roman knew our magic word; touché.

His thrusts deepened, bucking into me like he couldn't help himself, like nothing could ever drag him away from this pleasure. This was nothing like he would usually fuck me in my dreams, with confidence, with decisive control-- what was happening?

Then, with a ragged breath, he slowed and pulled out to flip me in his arms; not rough, not urgent, but reverent, like he was reorienting the dream around something more sacred than dominance. Was reality perhaps infiltrating my dreamland? Roman lay behind me now, one of his thighs nudging mine open again, his chest pressed to my back, his hand sliding over my hip to guide me back to him; I could only gasp as his cock entered me again, letting out a shaky moan as the usual stretch sent shivers up my spine. In this position, it was impossible not to notice how massive Roman was compared to me, how small I felt in comparison, and it made my brain buzz. 

We moved like that, spooned and aching, his mouth close to my ear, his breath ghosting down the column of my throat as his thumb circled my clit in lazy motions. I arched against him, feeling an odd type of purr building in me from the comfort-- seriously, what the hell was happening to my upir sex dream?! Was this just a sweet, normal one, this time around?

But then, of course, I was proven wrong.

Then, like he had been waiting for the right moment, like he was done buttering me up, Roman's hand slid up from my waist to my throat. Not tentative, not cautious-- claiming. His fingers spread beneath my jaw, thumb pressing gently under the hinge, while the rest of his palm flattened over my pulse like he wanted to feel my heart beat for him, like it turned him on to feel my heart. My breath hitched instinctively, but I didn't pull away; I couldn't. Not when his cock was still inside me, slow and thick, grinding deeper like he was trying to anchor himself inside my body, like he wanted me to feel how overpowered I was in his presence. 

And then Roman's voice, no longer warm or tender, cut through the silence, low and feral, close enough that it felt like it came from inside me;

"Mine,"

It wasn't romantic. It wasn't reassuring.

It was a threat.

I felt it in my chest, in the base of my spine, in the part of me that the tip of his cock brushed against over and over. Roman's grip didn't tighten, but the intention was there, like this was a reminder that he could snap me in half if he wanted to, and that knowledge alone made me clench around him.

Roman could kill me. Roman was a upir.

"Don't you fucking see?" he whispered, his fangs brushing the shell of my ear, the words so viciously tender they made me shiver. "You're the-- only thing I want, the only fucking thing in this world that isn't rotten, and if anyone tries to touch you-- tries to take you-- from me--"

Did he mean the vargulf?

I didn't get any time to think about it-- Roman cut himself off with a grunt, and in one fluid, brutal motion, he pushed himself deeper, past what he knew I'd allow in real life. I gasped, my fingers flying up to grip the forearm pressed firm against my collarbone, trying to ground myself as his cock dragged inside me over and over, the pressure making my toes curl. "Rome-- a-ah, I--" There wasn't much I could do with my body pressed up against him like this, with one big, strong hand around my throat keeping me flush to his chest, so I allowed myself to succumb to the pleasure of it all.

Then, Roman's fangs grazed that fragile tendon at the base of my neck, and I could feel the restraint in him fraying-- so thin, so threadbare, that it was a miracle he hadn't already sunk his sharp teeth into me. "I'll rip their goddamn hearts out," he snarled against my skin. "I'll tear the world apart, limb by limb-- anyone that tries-- to hurt you."

His possessiveness wasn't sweet; it was brutal, like I was being fucked by an instinctual animal. Of course. I was getting fucked by a upir-- what did I expect? "Love you," was all I managed to say, letting my head rest against him, feeling my body buzz from the unrelenting circles around my aching clit. 

At that, Roman pushed his hips harder, dragging guttural moans from my throat that I had never emitted before. "Say it," he demanded, the fingers on my throat twitching like he wanted to squeeze and kiss me in the same breath. "Say you're mine. Say it, or I swear to God-- I'll fuck it out of you, ngh--"

My breath hitched; I tried to speak, but all that came out was a broken, desperate sound, too wrecked to be a word. Roman groaned against my skin, savage and triumphant, like he knew exactly where he had me-- it was unlike him to be so... rough? 

Upir, upir, upir.

... But not a scary one.

"Yours," I breathed. "Yours."

Roman's big, protective arm wrapped around me like a hug from behind, and he let out a quiet moan into my neck, careful not to be so loud, in typical male fashion. In real life, he knew I loved to hear him. He knew, he knew-- knew what it did to me to hear him wrecked by the sensations. I wanted to go back to that, wanted the real Roman to come to me so, so bad, to kiss my neck without me fearing he'd pierce it. 

And then, as if he had heard me; "I'm full tonight," he murmured, almost as though he was comforting me. "Wake up, now."

My breath caught. "What?"

"Come back to me. Wake up and tell me that," Roman pressed a soft, reverent kiss to my neck, slowing down his thrusts, his motions around my clit-- "Wake up and tell me you're mine."

Something in me cracked; with a loud, all-taking sob, I awoke.

I sat upright fast, sheets tangled around my legs, sweat cooling over my skin in clammy patches, and I immediately reached for my neck.

There was nothing there, of course. No bite marks, no bruises. My fingers skimmed the soft skin just below my jaw where Roman's hand had been, half-expecting to feel the echo of his palm still stamped across my pulse, a reminder of my beating heart. It was stupid, it was impossible, and yet the ghost of him lingered-- the warmth, pressure, that trembling, protective hunger he'd held me with. God.

I let out a low, broken sound and rubbed the side of my neck harder, trying to shake the feeling. I swallowed and finally let my eyes adjust to the dark in my room, realizing I couldn't see anything. Scooting toward my window with a groan, I pulled my curtains apart just a smidge to allow some moonlight to shine in-- and that was when I realized my window was open.

My breath caught in my throat as I remembered this morning.

The footprints. The shadow. The park. The new death.

My whole body went cold-- there was no sound, not even the hum of my fan, not the rustle of the wind outside. Just the paralyzing quiet of something unnatural in the room with me, something that shouldn't be there, something that had no reason to exist outside the dream I had just left.

Slowly, I peeled my fingers off the curtain and twisted on the bed. First my shoulders, then my spine, reluctant as ever as my eyes dragged across the room in pieces, shapes blooming out of the dark one at a time; my desk, the corner of my bookshelf, the faint glint of light catching the edge of my mirror--

-- and then I saw it.

Him.

Roman.

Sat in the same chair as this morning, his body was relaxed in that obscene, deliberate way villains are when they know they've already won-- elbows balanced on the armrests like he had been waiting hours. He tilted his head the barest inch, studying me like someone with fangs might study a wound before biting deeper. The moonlight caught the angle of his cheekbones, the unholy stillness of his jaw, and his green eyes, glowing, sharp, and awake, like lights flipping on in the dark, immediately locked onto mine with predator clarity. No blinking. No hiding. He was here, and he was making himself known, this time.

It was as though he had been posted here to guard me.

Still, that didn't startle me any less. What did, was what I noticed he was holding. 

Two small glass vials swung lazily between his fingers, catching the light like tiny haunted ornaments. One filled with his blood. One with mine.

With a loud hitch of my breath, I pulled my sheets over my body, my blood running cold with the shock. "Fuck!" I yelped, my eyes welling with tears-- that always happened when I got properly scared. I lowered my voice, careful not to wake my parents, hissing; "Roman, what the fuck?!"

I saw the slight rise of his chest, heard the soft creak of the chair beneath his weight. And then, slowly, too slowly, Roman's fingers unlinked, pulling the vials into the palm of his hand. "Must've been quite the dream," he pondered out loud, cocking his head again, that same quiet, morbid interest in his face as he watched the vials. "You were practically humping your sheets."

"And you've just-- you've been watching me?" Horror washed over me, culminating in yet another aggressive hiss; "How long have you been here, you perv?!" 

"Long enough," Roman scanned me, brows drawing together as he saw how I was clutching my sheets over my body. He looked like he couldn't piece together why I was hiding from him; he had already seen everything he could've possibly seen before, right? But then, he saw it. "Oh, so that's where that went?" he said. 

I hadn't caught up, still shifting in my bed, trying to still my breath from the scare. "What went?"

"My t-shirt," Roman mumbled, pointing to the big, white Levi's tee I was wearing with the same hand that held the vials. "When did you manage?"

"That's not important!" I hissed, letting the duvets drop, yet my fingers remained clutched around the fabric as though it might save me. "How did you find the vials? Why are you in my room?!"

With a shrug and a sigh, Roman spread out in the chair as he avoided my first question. "Just... making sure you're alright,"

"What?" 

"I don't like the thought of you all... helpless and sleeping," he mumbled, put on the spot. "Vargulf on the loose, and all."

... Oh.

My fingers twitched around my sheets before I let them go, folding my legs and rubbing my eyes. There was something quiet and reserved about Roman's tone, yet something so painfully real-- he hadn't allowed himself to get to this level of depth with me since we broke up. "I'm fine, Rome," I tried, the nickname slipping past my lips before I could stop myself. "But you can't just... show up like this. How long have you been sitting here?"

Roman shrugged, no longer looking at me. "Not too long,"

"... Rome--"

"Stop calling me that," He fidgeted in the chair, much less composed now. "You're usually asleep by one in the morning, so I came by around one-thirty. Your moaning has kept me up, though."

"... Usually?"

Roman didn't answer that-- not right away.

Instead, he turned his face toward the window like he was studying the moonlight, or refusing to meet my eyes. His fingers closed around the vials, protecting them, and when he finally spoke again, his voice was lower, rougher; "I found out who it was,"

That stopped me cold. "Was it Letha?"

"No...?" Roman mumbled, shooting me a sideways glance.

"Okay, good,"

"... Why?"

"Because I told her this morning that I wished it had been her," The confession was a lot more vulnerable than I had thought it would sound out loud. "That night Brooke died. And I just wouldn't want to actually jinx anyone, that's all."

Roman clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth; "Right..." he started, nodding slowly to himself before his gaze darted back to the vials, pressing them together until they made a clinking noise. "No, it was Jasmine."

My breath caught in my throat, and I shifted in my bed, feeling my head throb. "Fuck," I breathed. "I hated that bitch."

"I know," Roman didn't blink, didn't move. "I hated her too, for what she did to you. Remember how she smashed your phone? Cut up your hands with those shards?"

"Yeah, but--"

"Your pretty, little hands..." he echoed, lost in thought as he watched the blood inside the vials move from side to side. "If anything, I might've been the one to jinx her. I wanted her dead. I think I even tried to kill her, in my own way."

I inhaled deeply; "I know,"

Finally, Roman's green eyes darted up to meet mine. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, the vials still glinting in one hand, and his hair fell forward a little, casting shadows across his face. "You know?"

"Yeah, I know," I mumbled. "I remember watching you in the hallway telling her something, and then when you left, she started slamming her head into her locker. She bled a lot. She got a concussion. It's a bit blurry, but I know that was you. It took me a while, but... yeah."

Roman blinked, unsure how to react. Tongue-tied, he could only swallow. "You must've--" He cleared his throat, avoiding my eyes before continuing; "You must've been scared when you figured it out."

Well...

"Honestly, Roman?" With a sigh, I scooted forward on the bed to get closer to him. "Now that Letha isn't telling me fake crap in my ear about how dangerous you supposedly are, I find it kind of hot. It was kind of sweet to figure out that you were... seeking revenge for my sake. Is that sick of me?"

Roman let out the faintest snort, more a breath than a laugh, but there was something like relief in it, like he'd been holding his breath without knowing. "Definitely," he muttered, the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Sick and twisted."

I smiled, small and crooked; "Takes one to know one,"

His eyes flicked up again, slower this time, like he was studying me instead of just glancing. "Oh, what's this? You're not scared of the big, bag upir?"

I tilted my head, giving him a look he knew too well. "You know I love you to death,"

"Not to death," Roman corrected, his jaw ticking. "You're not dying. Not on my watch." With that, he put the vials down on the table next to him, following them with his eyes. Something told me that the thought of me dying made him beyond anxious, and shortly after, his right leg gave in to a bounce. 

A chill settled over the room like fog as I let out a quiet sorry. My eyes flicked to the open window, then back to Roman's silhouette in the dark. "Well..." I started, shivering in the cold leaking in. "It's a shame about Jasmine, although she was a bitch. Did you hear anything about it over the intercom?"

Roman shrugged, disassociating; "It's the exact same situation as Brooke. Torn up, mangled, but just that Jasmine had one leg intact,"

With that image in mind, I gagged, clasping a hand over my mouth as I looked away. That was vile, that was horrid. It's an odd thing for someone you know to die, no matter who it is. And for it to be so brutal? No, that was gnarly. "Poor girl," I breathed, shuddering. 

Roman watched me react, confused that it was hitting me like this; something told me that he was so deep in this manic state that he didn't think too clearly about how gruesome the details were, and how someone else might react to it. "Do you... perhaps know anyone that was targeted by these girls?" he eventually asked. "Because so far, the vargulf has only killed cheerleaders. You used to be a part of Letha's gang, so... do you remember anyone that could've hated both Brooke and Jasmine?"

Oh. I had suppressed this part of my past. "There were a few girls, yeah," I mumbled. "I don't remember any specific names, though, so I'll have to dig a bit and come back to you on that one. But could the vargulf be a girl? Is that possible?"

"I really hope so,"

"... Why?"

Roman swallowed, rubbing his palm down his thigh to alleviate his anxiety. "That's for another time," he mumbled. "I've kept you up for long enough."

I blinked, surprised by the abrupt shift in him, and the way his tone closed off again like a door quietly latching shut. "You don't have to go," I tried, quicker than I meant to. My voice was soft, too soft, and even I heard the thread of something whiny in it. "It's late. You're already here."

Roman got up, rising to his full height. He didn't meet my eyes this time. "That's exactly why I should go," he muttered, brushing his hair back with one hand, balling up the other. "This, whatever this is, gets confusing whenever I stay too long."

My throat tightened-- I stayed on the bed, sitting up straighter, fighting the instinct to reach out and stop him physically. Then, it came flowing out of me before I could stop it; "How long do you usually stay, then?"

Roman froze, turning slightly, his silhouette outlined in the moonlight that streamed through the window. "What?"

"When you watch me sleep," I breathed, feeling my heart thudding against my ribs. "That's why you didn't come over last night, right? When I called you at three in the morning?" The more I thought it out loud, the more my heart abused my inner linings, and my next words came with a whisper; "Because you had already been here at one thirty?"

Roman didn't move, didn't breathe. His eyes were wide, too wide. Not with anger, not with fear-- just guilt. Guilt, like a kid who had been caught doing something he shouldn't, doing something he swore he wouldn't. "You're too smart for your own good," he mumbled.

"And you've worried yourself sick," I said. "You don't have to sit here and watch me to make sure I'm alright. I'd rather you slept."

"I just-- I hate this," Roman hissed, turning away to gaze at the open window, and my curtains flowing away from it with soft motions. "I hate that you had to go and trust Letha instead of me. I hate that I'm so mad at you, because... this timing is awful. I'd rather we were okay, so I could keep you safe without this being so fucking complicated."

"You have all the right in the world to be mad at me, Roman,"

"I don't want to be,"

"But you are,"

"I am," he echoed, and the way it left his mouth felt like it had taken something from him, like saying it out loud stole air he couldn't afford to lose. He dragged a hand through his hair, pacing a single, restless step toward the window. "Don't be sympathetic," he chanted, mostly to himself. "Hate me too. Come on, now."

My heart ached at the sight of him; "I could never hate you,"

"Well, I could definitely hate you," Roman snapped his head toward me then, eyes rimmed in moonlight, green irises glinting sharp, glossy, and angry. "You told me that night that you had thrown out my fucking vial, and I spent three hours--" A heave. A pointed finger my way, wavering. "I didn't know what to do with myself that night you found out about me, so I spent three hours walking back and forth to school along the highway, just in case you had thrown it out of your window on your way home. Three. Hours!"

Three hours. 

Alone. 

On the highway.

"Rome," I tried, but it was a breath, not a word. 

"I wish you hadn't called last night," he breathed. "I wish I didn't know."

My throat burned. My eyes were hot. The tears didn't fall with ceremony-- they just slipped out, one after the other, down the slope of my cheeks, falling straight from the wound he'd opened and didn't know how to close. 

Wake up and tell me you're mine.

"I'm so sorry," Wake up and tell me you're mine. "I hid it because the blood was affecting you," Wake up and tell me you're mine. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I wouldn't do that to you on purpose," Wake up and tell me you're mine. "I love you. I'm yours. And you are free to do whatever you want with that information. Discard it, tear it up, forget it... You don't ever have to forgive me. No one is forcing you to do that. But you need to give it back to me."

Roman turned his face halfway, enough that the downturned line of his mouth was visible. It looked wrong, strained, haunted, like it quivered to sob and kiss me all at once. "What?"

I held out my hand; I saw what he was clutching in his, what he thought he had gotten away with. "I'll take care of it," I breathed. "Give me the vial."

Roman didn't move right away. His head dipped slightly, chin angling toward his chest like he had just taken a blow; not a hard one, but the kind that makes you sit with yourself for a second. His shoulders sank, and for a moment, he just stood there like he was holding onto one last shred of resistance.

Then, he huffed. A small, tired sound, not angry, just... disappointed. The moonlight caught the edge of his face, and when he finally looked at me, I saw it clearly; he hated how well I saw through him.

"Oh well," Roman muttered, opening his palm and holding the vial of my blood up by the chain, the glass swinging faintly between us; "So much for subtlety." He stepped closer and dropped it into my hand with a faint clink of metal against skin. "Happy, now?"

I sighed, my fingers curling around the vial. "You gave it a shot, Robin Hood,"

"Oh, I wasn't planning on giving that to the poor," Roman mumbled, watching as I put it away on my nightstand. "Was gonna wear it while jacking off to French postcards of your mother."

Horrified, I could only gasp. "What the fuck?!" Oh, if looks could kill, I'd have a dead upir on my floor. I grabbed my pillow, throwing it at Roman in hopes of muting that damn inappropriate smirk of his.

With ease, he caught the pillow against his chest with a lazy arm and didn't bother to throw it back. His smirk faltered before it ever really settled, like he knew it was a low blow, like he knew he wanted me to laugh, but didn't have it in him to be funny.

"I'm sorry," Roman said, barely beneath his breath.

I didn't answer-- I didn't know how. I just watched him, watched the way his eyes dropped to my nightstand, like the vial still had gravity over him even now that it was gone from his palm, wondering whether he'd try to have a go at stealing it again. "Why do you want it back so bad...?" I asked, genuinely curious. "Is it the scent?"

Roman's jaw ticked. A muscle flexed in his cheek, like he wanted to argue, but didn't have the energy to lie. His green eyes didn't leave the vial while he spoke; "You have a very particular one, yeah,"

"Oh...?"

Roman looked over at me then, finally, and his eyes were quieter than I expected. No fire-- just that low-burning thing that lived beneath it. After a moment, he took a step back. Then another.

He turned toward the window, brushing the curtain back with a hand that lingered just a second too long. "I can't--" He stopped. Corrected. Glanced at me with that torn look that would haunt me for days, and finally spoke; 

"You smell like hope."

Before I could answer, before I could stop him, Roman was already lifting himself over the ledge, already halfway out, the night air catching in his hair. My hands caught the duvets, pulling at them as my words choked me, halfway to a cry. 

The room felt colder the second he was gone, like something had been sucked out of it, of me, and left nothing but the echo of where he had previously stood. The window, still open, let the wind crawl over the floorboards. It whispered against the curtains like it was mocking me, and I wanted it all to go away, to stop, to fuck off to where it came from. 

With a lone stream of tears rolling down my cheek, I got up, feeling like my whole body was made of cement as I fetched my pillow. Heavy as stone, I crawled back into bed, my ribs shaking with my building sobs, and I eventually let my body give in to the urge to give up. Pressing my face into my pillow, I ached, I cried, and soon it was warm with my breath; if only it had been warm with the body of the man I loved.

Stupid, stupid, stupid Roman. Stupid fucking bastard, watching me sleep, stealing my stuff-- oh, how I loved him. How I loved him, like my lungs loved air. How I loved him, like my veins loved blood. Stupid, beautiful, violent, cursed Roman. Was he gone for good? Would he never be mine again? Was this how this would be from now on?

Then...soft.

So soft I almost imagined it; the faintest scuff against the floorboards. Not wind. Not night. Something human, something deliberate.

I stopped breathing.

Turned.

He was here.

Framed in the moonlight again, half-shadow, half-boy. One foot in the room, the other still on the sill, like he hadn't made up his mind even now. His chest was rising like he had run back to me.

Roman didn't speak.

His eyes flicked over me; first the curve of my knees drawn up under the blanket, then the way I was blinking too fast, too wet. And then he just... stepped down into the room, slowly, like something in him might break if he moved too quickly.

I sat up a little, the blanket still clutched like armour. I was afraid to speak, afraid to push him away, afraid to say the wrong thing and make him run. Blinking through the tears, I felt my heart thrumming with nail-biting tension. "I-- I thought you left," I whispered, voice hoarse.

"I did," Roman breathed. 

Fuck. 

Then, he moved.

Not a lunge, not violent, just sudden. I didn't even see the decision happen, didn't see the switch; it must've happened outside. One second, he was standing in the quiet, and the next--

Roman's knees dug into the soft fabric as my back landed against the mattress, and his broad shoulders caged me in as he hovered on top of me, staring down at me with that look I knew too well; the one he had when he couldn't stop himself anymore, when he couldn't contain the urge to have me. 

And just as I remembered it, he lowered himself just enough for the tip of his nose to nudge mine, and I let out a shaky sigh against his lips; this was my Roman. This was how I remembered him. This was us. This was the ritual. This was sacred. 

Roman didn't kiss me right away; he hovered close enough that I could feel the heat of him, the trembling restraint in his body. His hair fell forward, a dark curtain that brushed my cheek, and his breath was warm against my mouth, shallow, like he was afraid to exhale.

My fingers slipped into his hair, pulled him closer without thinking, scared he might leave. His weight came down gently, careful not to crush me, and I felt his hand slip behind my neck like he needed to keep me tethered, like I might vanish too. 

Then, gently, so gently, it happened; Roman's lips met mine. He kissed me like every shape and angle of my mouth was familiar and holy-- and God, he was soft. His lips were plush, slow-moving, barely parted; they pressed, then hovered, then pressed again, tentative like a first time, and yet sure like he had done this a thousand times before.

My breath hitched.

He smelled like wind and night, but his skin was warm, so warm, and when his hand found the side of my face, I leaned into it instinctively, like I had been built for that palm. The pad of his thumb grazed the corner of my jaw, and his mouth, still on mine, shifted just slightly, tilted, fit better, knew better. Roman knew how to kiss me-- oh, how he knew. 

The way he moved wasn’t greedy, but reverent, and something in it was so heartbreakingly familiar, like curling into your own bedsheets after months away, like exhaling into the collar of your favourite shirt; this was him. This was my Roman.

Wake up and tell me you're mine.

But then I felt it; the shift. The subtle tightening in his shoulders, the way his hand softened its grip on my face, like he was already letting go, and Roman sighed against my lips, just barely-- it was the kind of sound you make when something inside you caves.

Slowly, he pulled back. My hands in his hair melted, unsure whether to hold on or let him slip away once again, and I felt my eyes well with tears all over again. 

Roman's green eyes opened, searching mine in the dark, and for a moment, I thought he might lean in again-- but he didn’t. His hand slid from my face, down my jaw, briefly brushed my shoulder, and then, he rose, careful and reluctant, as if detaching from me hurt; as if my body had become part of his, and leaving it would leave a mark.

"No more detours," Roman breathed. I couldn't see him in the darkness, couldn't read him, and my heart raced as he continued; "I could get a PI on you at any moment, so you better fucking behave. I want you safe. I need you safe."

Sniffling, I sat up, watching him slide off my bed. "Just don't do anything stupid," I breathed. "Promise me that you won't."

Roman paused at the window, one hand curling around the frame. The wind ruffled his shirt, but he stood still, like something in him didn’t want to leave.

He glanced back at me over his shoulder, a shadow cut in moonlight. His mouth tilted-- not a smile, not a smirk. 

And then, Roman slipped out into the night without a promise, without a trace.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The next day at school was more somber than the other-- I was getting used to this. 

A second girl had been killed within a week, and the atmosphere was filled to the brim with scared kids, and ignorant assholes making jokes about brutal murders. 

"Who's gonna make the podcast?" Peter huffed, squinting against the lighter’s flare-- he was the prime example of said assholes. "We could get a lot of money if we monetized this. It would be, like, live updates on a live case! Imagine the cash."

I shot him a glare as I took the cigarette from his fingers. “You’re disgusting," 

Why had I said yes to yet another meeting of the dirty mistress club?

“Disgusting and broke,” Peter said, unbothered. He leaned back against the brick wall behind the gym, his shirt collar up against the chill, eyes flicking toward the empty field beyond the fence. “Anyway, I wouldn’t be the host. You’ve got the voice for it. You could narrate murder like you’re reading bedtime stories.”

"Oh, fuck off,"

"Or, if you read it like it's a really dirty story, I bet we could get Roman to fund it! Bet he'd love to hear you moaning out the details of some gory murder,"

"Fuck off!" I smacked Peter's arm, grimacing as he laughed. "Roman isn't turned on by this bullshit!"

"He isn't...?" Peter reached for the cigarette we were sharing before I was ready to give it away, and he took a protective step back just in case I were to reach for it again. "I'd have thought he was walking around with a constant boner. Girls he's been with getting bloodied? Come on, now. Bet your upir is enjoying this to some extent."

I shivered; I had forgotten that Roman had screwed both Brooke and Jasmine. Why was the love of my life such a manwhore? "He's not enjoying it. He's worried sick," I mumbled, staring longingly at the cigarette. "He was in my room last night."

Peter's thick eyebrows jumped, his grin souring as he exhaled a thin stream of smoke. “Oh, he was, huh?”

I gave him a look; “Don’t,”

“I’m not saying anything,” he said, raising both hands like he was innocent. “I’m just saying if he were in my room the night a second girl turned up dead, I might be checking for fang marks in the morning.”

“Roman didn’t bite me, Peter," Only in my damn dreams. "He told me he thinks the vargulf is a girl. He was very adamant that he hoped it was, and... honestly? I'm convinced this thing is real, at this point."

Peter shifted beside me, suddenly quiet. His mouth opened like he had something to say, but he just nodded, sucking down another drag with slightly more force than usual. The humor had drained from his face, leaving behind something tight in his jaw, something almost... guilty.

I narrowed my eyes. “What?”

“Nothing,” he huffed. The lie was so thin it practically floated. “Just... girl vargulf, huh? That’s new. Makes sense, though. Girls are fucking crazy.”

I didn’t laugh-- neither did he.

For a second, all I could hear was the wind scraping dry leaves along the pavement and the faint drone of morning announcements spilling out from the cracked gym window. Then, I squinted at Peter, but he didn’t meet my eyes. “You looked really fucked up yesterday. I mean, you always look a little fucked up, but... you were being really weird when I saw you in the hallway yesterday,”

Peter snorted, but it didn’t have any bite. “We’re smoking behind a high school during a murder investigation. Everyone’s being weird,”

"What happened, though?" I asked. "Why were you looking for Letha?"

"I was worried," he bit back. "Someone was dead, and I was looking for my girl."

"You guys aren't together anymore. She's not your girl,"

"Neither are you and Roman, yet he's breaking into your room and hunting a wolf for you," Peter finally handed me the cigarette, squaring me up. "Letha's always gonna be my girl, just like you're always gonna be his."

The lit cigarette between my fingers were somehow symbolic of how Peter's words lit something in my stomach. Roman's girl. After how he had kissed me last night, it seemed he agreed. With a small smile rising across my lips, I inhaled a drag before holding the cigarette out for Peter to take, passing it over. 

But when he didn't take it from me, I glanced up at him, brows drawn together. 

My blood ran cold; Peter looked like he had seen a ghost. His eyes had gone wide, locked on something just past my shoulder. I turned slowly, like I already knew what I’d find, and there he was;

Roman.

This was becoming a deja vu. 

He stood at the edge of the gym wall like he had materialized from the shadows, his shirt billowing in the morning wind, eyes locked on Peter with a look I had never seen before. He held his own cigarette, unlit, probably coming here to smoke too. There was no snark in his green eyes, no jealousy, no wounded boyish glower-- just murderous rage.

Roman scoured the scene before him; his on-and-off girlfriend with his ex-best friend, sharing a cigarette. This was bad. This was so bad. 

Before I could speak, before Peter could even register what was happening, Roman was moving, storming toward us like a force of nature. The cigarette slipped from my fingers and hit the pavement with a hiss, and Peter turned just in time for Roman to grab a fistful of his collar and slam him back against the brick wall. The thud was brutal, a sick crack of spine and mortar, and I flinched, letting out a sound between a squeak and a yelp; "Roman!--"

"Oh, you piece of shit!" he yelled, green eyes glowing with fury.

“What the fuck, dude?!--” Peter started, but Roman shoved him harder.

“Shut up!" 

Roman's hand was twisted in Peter’s collar so tightly that the fabric was stretching at the seams, pressing him into the bricks like he might put his old friend through the wall.

“Roman, stop it!” I shouted again, stepping forward instinctively. "This is not what it looks like!"

He didn’t look at me-- not even a flick of his eyes. He was locked on Peter, jaw clenched, pupils blown wide, and for a second, I thought I saw his lips twitch like he was fighting the urge to bare his teeth. "We had a deal!" Roman yelled. "You and your filthy fucking paws were going to leave us alone! What the fuck have you done, man?!"

Peter tried to speak, but Roman shoved him again, and this time Peter’s head knocked the wall. “No, stop it!” I shouted again, panic creeping into my voice. "We were just smoking, it's not what!--"

"Fuck you, I haven't done anything!" Peter spat, launching at Roman's hands; neither of them were hearing me. His brown eyes were wild now, not just angry-- scared. "Are you fucking serious right now?! Who do you think I am?--"

"I don't know you anymore!" Roman shouted, tightening his grip around the collar. "You are not my business, I don't give a flying fuck about what you do, but this has gone too far!"

Peter twisted, snarling; "What are you accusing me of?!--"

"Why are you turning against the moon?!" Roman spat. 

My stomach turned. What?

"You said you never!--"

“Yeah, I don’t!” Peter shouted, his voice cracking. “I never fucking do that, are you out of your mind?! Jesus, are you listening to yourself?”

Roman shoved him again, pinning him like prey. "All the girls that are going against Letha right now are dying one by one, and you smell like blood! You think I don't know what a rabid animal smells like?!" 

My head felt like it was about to blow. What was he saying? Rabid animal? Blood? The moon? "What is going on?" I begged, taking a step closer to grip Roman's arm, hoping it would yank him back to his senses.

At that, Peter's big, brown eyes shot toward mine, silently telling me to back off. Who was I to go up against an angry upir? With my breath stuck in my chest, I backed off, watching the crackling intensity shooting back and forth between them. 

Peter swallowed hard, his hands clenched into fists over Roman's grip on his collar. "Watch it, now," he hissed. "You really think I have that in me?"

Roman’s grip tightened, and I could hear the faint creak of stretched fabric. "You're the only one with a tail to tuck between your legs," he spat. "I don't know any other werewolves in town."

I stared between them, something sharp catching in my chest.

For the first time, I wasn’t sure who I should be afraid of.

(a/n: omg this is getting juicy, FINALLLLYYYY!!! thank you if you've read this far!!<33)

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[transboyswitchytales]

🔒Spooky Coincidence🔒🔪 DARK FIC (NSFW)

👻 spooky request : here’s my prompt: maya mason was reader’s boss and fuck buddy. she ended their past “situationship” as she did not believe in commitment which led to reader resigning. however, as time progressed, maya still thinks about reader and becomes obsessed with her. a new movie project brings the reader and maya back together, intertwining their lives once again. maya will do anything to keep reader all to herself, even blackmailing her into marriage and breeding her. i want it rough please, where maya will roughly shove her dick into the reader without proper lubrication and to the point where reader is begging maya to stop cumming inside of her as she’s overstimulated. oof did i not state earlier that maya has a penis? is it too spooky? 🥺

NEVER TOO SPOOKY MY FRIEND!

WARNINGS : SEXUAL ASSAULT / G!P MAYA / Manipulation / NON CON / Non con sexual videos / Blackmail / Stalking / yandere/Breaking and Entering / DARK FIC / Impreg Kink / Forced Impreg / Cum Kink / Power Play / Unhealthy Maya / Scary bad / Murderer Maya / DARK - Dead Dove Don't Eat / 18+ MDI / DO NOT READ IF THESE TRIGGER YOU

You did not believe in coincidences.

You'd watched enough horror movies. Where the final girl realizes a strange coincidence. 

You’d been fucked around by life enough to know, coincidences weren’t real.

Things that were meant to fuck you over, we’re always there. 

Everything happens the way it’s supposed to.

When you became the head of Netflix Movie Productions, aka Netflix Studios. You saw it as a fresh start.

You had been taught by Patty. You were to be her replacement. But when you and Maya…well when Maya dumped you. Because she was a commitment phobe and you resigned. Patty had been livid. 

Three days later, she’d been fired. And the poor shmuck Matt now had your job.

You didn’t miss the studio. If anything, you felt bad for the man.

But that was fine. You’d been with Netflix Studios for a month now. You loved it. You got to green light projects you believed in. You finally were getting queer stories on a platform. 

Sure you had to make the odd shitty film, but that was the biz.

So when your boss called to let you know that Netflix and Continental Studios were merging. You were livid.

This was actual Hell, not a coincidence. 

You couldn’t believe it, you and Matt were to be partners now. 

Matt was not going to be good for business. He was overly emotional, immature, and a people pleaser. He was terrified of decisions, and you knew he’d make a mess.

There’s a reason Patty didn’t pick him to be groomed for her position. 

You didn’t like him. It didn’t help that Maya and him used to be drunk make-out buddies. 

No, you couldn’t think of that right now.

Because you were about to walk into a meeting with Matt and his team.

And that included Maya.

Maya-fucking break your heart-Mason. 

Your heels clicked on the marble floor. People stopped and turned as you stalked back to the conference room. Half of the floor would be laid off by the end of the month. 

This was the entertainment business now.

And you were the villian, the subscription service.

You walked in with your horns and fangs and they’d all be unemployed.

You were the monster.

Didn’t matter that they all subscribed to Netflix. It was the principle of it. You were ending theaters. 

You didn’t mind their angry looks.

If anything it fueled the fire in your veins. You couldn’t appear soft in there.

Not in front of Maya.

So when you opened the door to Sal having a fit, you didn’t even care.

“Hey if it isn’t Netflix Nasty Negotiator!” Her snarled at you. 

You just arched an eyebrow at him. 

“Sal you promised!” Matt said not able to control his staff. Even Quinn wasn’t seated, and she was glaring at you. Everyone is standing, waiting to fight you.

They all were.

Except Maya, who you didn’t need to look at to feel her gaze touching your body. She had horny intentions and it was clear by her silence. 

Sal is angry and he speaks out of turn again.

“We were friends! I took you to caviar and cocaine brunch!”

You can’t even begin to answer that. That was not something you wanted to remember for even a second. 

“Sal, I’m not here to fire you. This meeting is so we can join-“ 

“Bullshit!” He yells and he’s pacing with his hands on his hips like a child. You look at Matt, as if to say ‘can you please calm your bitch down?’

 Matt is of no help, shocker, he just looks equally upset. Like you’d taken the last chocolate milk for school lunch. This was obnoxious; these people, your old friends, were supposed to be studio heads. 

You were telling them what Netflix would like you to, but it seemed that wouldn’t work. 

“Look, I get that there’s an emotional thing here. But I’m not happy to be here either. Now we can do this the hard way if you want. But it’ll be a lot easier if we all play nice in the sandbox. Give me the lists of employees, and let’s have this meeting. And hopefully this will go smoothly and we won’t have to see each other as much, ok?” You say to Matt, and then turn to Sal too.

You ignore Patty, Quinn, and never give Maya even a sideways glance. 

“And if we refuse?” Sal says, and Matt turns to look at him like that might be a good idea.

You don’t even let the idea breathe. 

“You either evolve like a pretty butterfly or I will stomp you.” You say, and Sal audibly gulps in the conference room.

Now you turn to Patty, who just seems to be studying you, like she was watching something she created herself. 

You don’t let Sal say another word. You continue to let them know you aren’t the same person who walked into the studio. Not for Sal to get high with, not for Patty to mold, not for Matt to people please, and certainly not for Maya to fuck. 

You look at Quinn now.  

“Anyone who makes this harder..I mean anyone.. will be fired. Don’t try some shitty little plan to over throw this merger it’s happening.” You figure Sal and her would try, and that would mean you’d have to fire them before the end of the day. 

“What you think you can stop us!” Quinn tries to be bold, and you wonder if Sal gave her something before this meeting. You rest your bag down onto the floor and grab the back of one of the wheelie chairs and try to breathe through your rage. 

It’s the sweet voice that haunts your dreams that answers instead. 

“I will,” Maya says dangerously. 

Your head snaps now to look at her, and she smiles like she earned you. 

“What?” Matt is the one who asks now. 

“Evolve or die, kids. That’s your options. That’s this studio's only option. I’m glad we are merging. It’s time we got in with a trend instead of behind it.” She states, and you look away, not about to give her any more than you already had. 

“Wait, Maya, you are ok with this?” Quinn asked, confused. 

Maya's gaze never left yours. You feel her all over you. 

“More than.”

“This is bullshit!” Sal yells again and kicks one of the chairs, which topples a little but doesn’t flip. Very anticlimactic, just like the man himself. 

“If you try to hurt this business deal, Sal.” Maya glared at all of them in the eye with so much force, you would be intimidated if you didn’t also know the face she made as she orgasmed. But she stopped at Matt.

“If any of you do. I’ll make you wish you’d never come to Hollywood.” 

Matt gulped but nodded his understanding, too.

The rest of the meeting was quick; you got their budgets, a list of employees, and their current films in progress. 

You stood up, and Patty cornered you and handed you a letter. You were confused for a minute but she leaned in and kissed your cheek. You understood immediately.

She wasn’t just scared for the end of her career; she wanted to make amends. 

Patty had been a mother to you in so many ways. In this business, she’d taught you what it took to be ruthless and still soft for the right people. You two shared a moment before you squeezed her hand back and then walked out. Putting your computer bag over your shoulder, and happy to be far away from this place. 

But you heard Maya's heels clicking behind you. She waited until you were out of the building to grab your arm. You turned and went to slap her across the face, but she grabbed your arm.

“Oh my, I know I had that coming, but you were quick,” Maya said, holding your arm and wrist over your head.

“I loathe you.” You snarl at her, and she smiles and leans in and kisses you. But you don’t let the shock show, and you pull back. And out of her harsh grip. You step back once.

“I love you,” Maya says, and your mouth drops open.

Now that was a shock.

“You told me you could never love anything that wasn’t Valentino. You dumped me, and told me you didn’t want what I want. That you fucked me for power, remember?” Those words echoed in your mind every night. Every morning as you hit the gym for your revenge bod, every glass of wine with friends. Maya’s words hit your temples like a marching band of self-pity and hate.

Maya doesn’t respond to your words, instead, she pushes forward like this is a romantic moment to share. 

“I tried to call you. I went to your house, and you changed the code. I emailed you and it bounced back. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you since the day you quit!” Maya shouts, and people on the lot turn and watch the lesbian drama unfold.

You won’t be manipulated again. 

“You can’t be serious! You were cruel! Why, no, I’m not doing this. I am the head of a studio now. I was your boss before, and that was bad, but now I’ve grown up. I’m Netflix now, not yours, and I’m going on dates again! I don’t need this shit!” You yell back, and Mayas face grows murderous at the idea of you on dates. You turn and walk away, but she’s faster and she grabs your bag. Fishing out your keys and she drops your laptop onto the cement. 

“Hey!” You shout and grab your shit off the floor. 

“No, you aren’t leaving again.” 

You can’t believe this display, only you can. You eye the keys and know she’ll be too quick, you can’t get them. 

“I’m not yours anymore, Maya!”

“You have no idea how wrong you are.”

“I’m your boss!”

“Are you? Interesting coincidence isn’t it? That Continental Studios avoids being bought out by Amazon for subscription service…but we just fall into Netflix’s pretty fingers.” Maya looks down at your hands, and the image of her cock wrapped in them flashes through both your minds. 

You flinched and took a step back again.

“No.” 

This feels beyond dirty. 

“Oh yes baby.”

“You couldn’t do that.” You heard the lie as you said it, Maya could manipulate anything and anyone. She had more power than the whole studio combined. 

“You know me better than anyone what I can do, what I have done.” She reminds you and you remember it. Maya was to be feared. 

You had to think of this in a form of business and strategy. She didn’t want you, she wanted power, and now you had it. 

“So why then? What do you want?” You look over at people who are whispering and pointing. 

“I’m ready now,” Maya states and pockets your keys. 

You are so floored by her words that you don’t process the keys. 

“For a relationship?” You attempt, wondering what her possible angle could be here. Fuck you, keep job security, and maybe more power? It felt too boring for Maya, she didn’t need to get you hired only to play with her own studio. 

Maya smiles and shakes her head, like she’s declaring something life changing. 

“No baby, I’m ready to marry you. I’m ready to have kids. I put my house on the market. We are going to do it.”

You blink, once and then twice. 

“Maya, no. I wanted those things before, I don’t want them now. And never with you, never again!” You yell and don’t care that people see you now. Maya doesn’t care about them and she walks towards you, and you try not to show fear. 

“That doesn’t go away just because of a fight!” She reaches for your face, and you slap her hand away. 

“Maya, it does when you were cruel and dumped me at a work event! Forget it! Find some other warm hole to put your dick in! I’m over it.” You huff and remember your phone has a key fob for your smart car. You pull your bag up your shoulder and practically sprint away from Maya.

Realizing it’s not a good look, head of Netflix Films running on her heels away from ex girlfriend. Fuck it, you needed out. 

You get in your car and get off the lot as fast as possible. You call HR and over the phone work on getting Maya fired.

You wouldn’t work with her. 

You couldn’t. 

__________________________________________

It’s three days later that you have to go visit Matt to talk about how one of his movies is about to lose the green light for Netflix. He reached out to you to talk logistics in person. You are about to put a whole lot of people off a project. So you didn’t know why he wanted to do it in person, but whatever. 

You walk in, and Matt is bickering with Sal. You knock on the door lightly to let them know they aren’t alone. 

“Sorry, hey, hey, Mrs. Mason, you should have told us you were getting married!” Matt exclaims and you feel like you are perhaps having another nightmare, they often went like this. 

“I’m not.”

“Stop that, cats out of the bag! Quinn is gonna beg to be your maid of honor!” Sal teases and laughs with Matt, and you wonder if they’re higher than normal. 

“The fuck are you talking about?” You snap, and both men look confused now at your obvious anger. Giving each other a confused exchange. 

“Maya, she told us and the party tonight…she told us to bring the good boose…oh shit was it a suprise party?” Sal said putting a hand over his mouth like he’d blown a secret. 

You think for a second…

“Is Patty around?” You ask and they both shrug. “Do you mind if we reschedule this?” You try to keep your voice calm. 

“Of course bride to be! Oh my god are you guys getting hitched quickly because of the merge or…oh god are you pregnant!” Matt said, and your left leg gives out, and you grab the wall. They both go to catch you, but you put your hand up. 

“Is Maya in?” You realize she must be here. 

“You love birds, no sex in the office. I mean I guess it’s your studio now..and well you are the boss…And it wouldn’t be the first time that happened on a studio lot.” Matt laughed, and you felt like bugs were crawling all over your body. 

“She’s getting the party ready of course!” Sal answers for you, and you turn and leave, they call out for you to stay for a celebratory drink but you are gone. 

You don’t know where Patty’s office would be anymore, not really standard for a producer to have one. 

You get into your car with your iPhone smart key and go home. There are four giant U-haul trucks in your L.A mansion drive way. 

You are going to puke. 

You punch in your code and the gates open and you park behind one of the giant U-Hauls. You find large men pushing huge expensive furniture into your home, and taking your furniture out and onto one of the other U-Haul’s. 

Quinn and Tyler are directing people on where to put the party supplies. Someone is hanging a huge disco ball and different lighting for the party. A fog machine is doing a little too good of a job and catering pushes past you with huge trays. 

You try to breathe and find you physically can’t. 

Quinn and Tyler wave to you, and you hold up your hand but go up the stairs. You open your bedroom door and find a new bed and a shit ton of boxes. You open three more doors in your upstairs until you find her in the last one at the end of the hall. 

You open it to see Maya talking to a man about paint colors. 

You are about to scream at her until you see someone building a crib.

Maya had turned this room into a nursery. 

Your mouth opens and nothing comes out. 

But Maya see’s you now and turns to greet you. 

“Hey baby! You are home early!” She says, and you gape at her stupidly. 

“Awe, someone’s shocked at the new nursery! Come on baby, let me bring you to the bedroom, and then we can have a tour! I already picked out your dress for tonight!” Maya tells you and directs you out of the nursery as your gaze falls to the seven foot tall stuffed bear next to a rocking chair in the corner. 

She pushes you across the hall back to what was your bedroom at one point, but now smelled of Maya’s expensive perfumes. 

She shut the door and locked it. 

“Maya….what the fuck?” Is all you can say. 

“Welcome home.” She states with something gone in her eyes. 

It’s insanity you realize. 

“You can’t honestly think I’m going to go along with this? You just move your shit into my house and then what? I fall back in love with you? I’m telling all of them, I’m calling fucking Matt and telling him I’m not marrying you! And that you are so fired! And I’m getting a fucking restraining order against you.” Your mind goes to all the things needed to be done at once. 

Maya snorts and then shoves you and you lose your balance and fall onto the bed. 

Maya crawls fast ontop of you and she pins your wrists above your head and you try to buck her off. Until Maya squeezes your wrists super hard and you cry out and stop. 

“How did that work last time? When you tried to fire me? Huh, baby? Do you feel in control now? I moved mountains to get Netflix and the studio together. Now, you are mine. I thought you’d behave and come back, but if you can’t do that. Then I’ll blackmail you until you fall in love with me again.” She says and smiles, her hair falling in your face, and the smell of her is intoxicating. 

“You are crazy.”

“Talk dirty to me baby.”

“Maya, why would I ever go along with this?”

“You want the list? Because over ten thousand people are coming over in six hours to our engagement party, including your boss and Matt’s. Because you’ll have to tell Netflix why the deal fell through if you don’t open your legs for me. Because you’ll lose everything you worked so hard for….or if that isn’t enough. Because I have over seventy home movies of you naked covered in my cum and begging for me. Everytime we fucked in my office, in your office, in my house, in your bathroom..I bugged everything. So… what about a welcome home to your wife?” Maya sweetly grins and you are going to throw up. 

“No, you are bluffing.”

Maya leans in and kisses your nose. 

“You are perfect, I hoped you’d say that.”  Maya gets off of you, and she waits for you to hit her, but your fear of her telling the truth is too strong. 

You lay there terrified, and she reaches over to the remote to your big flat screen across from the bed. She pulls her iphone out of her pocket, turns the tv on, keeps the volume up high, and cast one of your last times making love together. 

You remembered it only in bits, Maya had taken you to dinner and gotten you a bit tipsy first. But you knew you’d said things and done things that night. Because you’d told Maya about your breeding kink, and she’d gone too far into fantasy, and you’d cum so hard. Loving how she took over control and said the worst things. Loving the idea that someone would ruin everything for you. 

God, you’d set this psycho loose. 

You watch the screen as you are in her bedroom, to the house you used to spend all your time. That was now sold you guessed. 

You watch in horror and a secret longing for a simpler time. 

Maya turns it up even louder so you can hear, as she starts stripping out of her designer clothes. You don’t look at her, too stuck on the screen. 

“Maya baby, fuck me please! LET ME CUM!” You begged and opened your legs as Maya feasted on your cunt and then spit on your clit. She fisted her cock and slapped your pussy a few times with it. As if she was marking her territory. 

“Tell me what you want baby?”

“Fuck me Maya!”

“No baby, tell me what you told me before.”

“Maya no…”

Real time Maya laughs at this, and you feel her taking the chain necklace off of her neck. And putting it over your head onto your neck. They were your chains, she held the lock. 

But when you broke up, Maya had taken to wearing them, to show you, you were everything. 

Now you watched the screen, disgusted with yourself. 

Maya fisted her cock with one hand and masturbated to the sight of you watching the little video. 

She reaches forward and slaps you across the face and you moan for her. Letting your tongue stick out and she pushes her fingers inside your throat to gag you, she loves the sound. 

You reach to grab her arm to help her get further, and Maya smirks in enjoyment at how low you’ll go for her. 

“Say it, say what you want. Tell me what you want.” 

“Breed me Maya.”

“You want that huh?”

“So bad.”

“What if I don’t give it to you? How far would you go to have my babies? Would you go off birthcontrol? Would you poke a hole in condoms? Would you spit out my seed and shove it inside your greedy hole? Would you ride my cock in my sleep? How far would you go for me my love?”

You moan and reach down to finger yourself, and Maya slaps your hands away. 

You watch the screen, Maya grabs your breast and squeezes too hard, and you wince and ignore her. Ignore the sound of her balls hitting as she works her cock at the sight. Her fingers comb through your hair like you are a cute thing she’s playing with. 

“Would you incriminate yourself for me? How low would you go? How obsessed would you be?” 

Maya grabs your throat now and squeezes way too hard, and you moan and feel your vision blur. 

“I’ll tell you, since you are too stupid. Too fucked to listen to me. I’d switch your birth control out, I’d fuck you as you sleep and hold your legs to make sure it doesn’t come out. I’d kill for you. I already have.” Maya says and you are too aroused to think of how fucked that all sounds.

“Please..please breed me. I’ll be a good girl. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?”

“Would you give me things at work?”

You nod and Maya spits on your chest like you are nothing. 

“Would you fire someone for me? Steal for me?”

You nod all you can think is how much you want her inside of you. Your head spins with need and alcohol. 

“Would you do insider trading? Would you let me fuck you in front of studio heads? Would you let me ruin Patty’s reputation to move you into the right position?”

You can’t answer now as her fingers are fucking your throat like you are a toy. Maya is in her element as she belittles you. 

“You wanna be a Mommy?” Maya asks and you nod and she lines her cock to your entrance. “Come on, say it whore.” She moves her fingers out from your throat. 

“I wanna be a Mommy, I want you to be a Mama!” You shout loudly and Maya slaps your face hard. 

“I love this part.” Maya says with a bit of giddiness, and you realize you are actually in Fatal Attraction. This was insane. And yet Maya’s touch didn’t feel foreign in this moment. Which made you even more sick. You must have had sex at least the amount of time she said for the movies. Your body must know her touch. Maya takes a bit of pre-cum from her cock and shoves it into your mouth and you try to fight her hand but she laughs and you taste her all the same. 

“No, if you are the Mommy, I’ll be the Daddy. I’m already your Daddy aren’t I?”

You moan as she pushes her cock further inside of you. 

“Say it, say this pussy belongs to Daddy.”

“Daddy, you own me, it’s all yours, anything you want forever is yours.”

“When you get pregnant, I’m going to fuck you every day. As you swell from my seed. I’ll fuck you until you squirt down your legs and I’ll fuck you some more. I’ll fuck you on Patty’s desk, make you push your milky tits together as I cum on your face and make you wear it to meetings.” Maya told you as she bottomed out inside of you and fucked you harder and harder. Telling you the horrible things she’d do. 

To your horror, Maya is taking off your clothes as you watch it, and you try to fight her off. But she backhands your face and you clutch it. 

She points to the screen and yells in your face.

“Did you not see that? Be a smart business woman, the one I know I fell in love with. Baby, you admitted to insider trading, you admitted to doing anything to get pregnant! You said you’d do anything for me for the studio. Now I have enough to bury you. But I won’t, I’ll marry you and I’ll breed you. And we’ll be the heads of a movie empire. You and me.” Maya says and she brushes her fingers over your hurt cheek. Like an apology. 

“Maya, you loved me once, think this through. This isn’t right.” You try, but Maya takes off your pants and you don’t stop her. 

“I love you, and this is right, feel it, feel how right this is.” Maya grabs your hand and places it over her fully erect leaking cock. “Look at what our home movie does to me baby, fuck your Daddy loves you,” Maya says, and you feel real fear of your ex.

Maya takes your underwear off, and you try to leave your body. 

But as she takes off your nice blouse and admires the lacey bra you can’t ignore the sound of the movie playing. 

You turn to look at it, and Maya leans forward and kisses your neck, keeping you in line to watch. 

You see Maya choking you as she speaks and fucks you. 

“Daddy’s good whore! Fuck yes! Tight cunt is made for Daddy! Say you’ll wear my cum everyday! SAY IT!”

You close your eyes, feeling insulted at how needy and in love with everything she did, and every word she said you were on that video. 

Maya reaches down to your dry cunt and laughs. 

“In the past you would have been so soaked by this. But don’t worry, you will learn to be wet for me again.” 

Maya pushes you down and lifts your knees, and you sneer at her, but she doesn’t care.

She shoves her cock in dry and you scream.

“Don’t worry, between the video of you moaning and this scream. No one will ever question who’s cock you are hungry for. When Matt and Sal come over, I’ll tell them how you begged for me to paint your tits with it before you got in your dress.” Maya started to pant as she shoved her cock deeper inside of you and you screamed and tried to wiggle away but she had you pinned as she held your legs up to get closer. 

“You should have noticed when your birth control went missing. I told you that night what I would do.”

Your eyes open in horror and Maya nods and spits on your face. You flinch and she looks down at where her cock meets your tight cunt over and over.  

“You didn’t even notice me in our home, Daddy was here. You fucking gave me a key, remember. I watched and I changed your meds, this first load will take. But if it doesn’t, that’s ok. I’m going to fuck you every mornig and every night. You can work from home now, don’t worry. I have it all worked out baby. I’ll fuck you so good,” Maya promises and you realize, you are counting. You haven’t taken your birth control in weeks, you hadn’t had sex since…oh fuck. 

Maya was about to make good on her promise. 

The video you screamed as you came. 

“Oh fuck this is my favorite part.” Maya pulls out of you real time and angles you so you are facing the TV. She pushes you onto your hands and knees and she takes you from behind. Pushing into you and you find in horror, that you are getting wet from her cock. Like muscle memory now. 

You watch as Maya slaps your face over and over and you stick your tongue out as she spits on your tongue and holds a vibrator to your clit. You jerk as you cum again and again and she doesn’t let up. 

“What a pretty girl. My little movie star!” Maya says and you hear her voice strain and know she’s about to cum inside. 

“MAYA NO! MAYA, PLEASE DON’T! NOT INSIDE! PLEASE NOT INSIDE!”

“Daddy has to come inside, Mommy, you love it inside, see watch!” Maya grabs your hair and pulls your head back so you have to watch the film of Maya cumming inside of you again as you squirt and squeeze her cock. 

You squeeze around her cock now, and you hate yourself for it. Maya screams your name so everyone downstairs can hear what she is doing, the love you are making. 

She collapses onto of you, her breast and sweaty body pressing against you, and you stare at the video, as it continues. 

“What a coincidence, you squeeze my cum out of my cock just the same now as you did when you loved me,” Maya says as one hand digs under your body to hold your stomach. As if she can feel the life growing inside of you already. And you see the next video start. 

Spooky...If you like..I'll make you a part 2....

MasterList AO3 DarkFic List

[winchesterwild78]

Master Lists

Jensen Ackles Master List

Chance Meeting

Austin

Behind the Scenes

Forgotten

Whiskey Kisses and Broken Promises

The Ranch

Teacher

The Director

Less Lonely

Serenade

Captain

Austin Nights

A Haven of Comfort

The Tutor

The Weight of Guilt

A Father's Love

A Birthday Worth Celebrating

A Surprise for a Special Day

A Husband's Return

A Shattered Heart

An Unexpected Friendship

Broken

Unspoken Words

Second Take

Goodbye, My Love

A Day Marked Twice

The Arrangement

Dean Winchester Master List

All Patched Up

Unexpected Hunter

First Aid

Please Don't Go

The Hunter

By Your Side

Hunters and Secrets

Taking Care of Each Other

Safely in Your Arms

A Secret Revealed

A Little Bit Stronger

A Twist of Fate

Carry on My Wayward Son

The Demon and Me

Daddy's Girl

The Gravity of it All

Beau Arlen Master List

Montana

Always Protected

I'll Always Take Care of You

A New Sheriff in Town

Soldier Boy Master List

Curvy

I Can't Lose You

Take Care Of Me

Cranky

The Mistake

Brat

The Art of Not Saying "I Love You"

A Soldier's Valentine

Like A Wrecking Ball

Russell Shaw Master List

Rekindled

Lost in the Wilderness

Mark Meachum Master List

When Eric met Mark

The Unveiling

Short Stories and One Shots

Unspoken Rules

A Night of Shadows and Strength

A Home and a Heart

Elevator Encounter

A Secret Love

Heaven

Thankful for You

Twinkle Lights

Silly Rabbit

The Twelve Days of Christmas

Peppermint Kisses and Christmas Promises

Happy New Year

Happy Birthday, Dean Winchester

The PE Teacher

A Light in the Darkness

Winter's Embrace

Ticklish

Glitter and Green Eyes

Stitches and Secrets

The Actor's Secret

A Soft Goodbye

An Echo of a Winchester

The Secret He Kept

Drowning in Silence

What Happens in Rome

Forever Tags:

@nescaveckwriter @kr804573 

@k-slla @jackles010378 

@jawritter @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx 

@roseblue373 @cheynovak 

@jassackles  @chriszgirl92

@suckitands33 @arcannaa 

@n-o-p-e-never @ladysparkles78 

@smoothdogsgirl @hobby27 

@manicjk @stoneyggirl2 

@deans-spinster-witch @snowayumi 

@shadowqueen1318 @shanimallina87

@muhahaha303 @fitxgrld

@nancymcl @baby19sthings

@cheekygirl2309 @oceean

@kindollss

[theethighpriestess]

REVISED MASTERLIST

Alrighty Tumblr loves, here's a revised version of my masterlist. As stated in the last one, I do not own the rights to any character or country names created by Ryan Coogler or Marvel. All OCs are my own & are typically chubby, black, & magical. Bold, red titles are smut. 18+ content ahead. Minors, do not interact! Banners designed by me! ☺️

--

HOE ASS ERIK - COMPLETED

What happens when Hennessy convinces Erik to become a male escort while they’re at MIT?Foolishness and smut galore!

MASTERLIST

CARNAL STIMULATION

Collab with @hearteyes-for-killmonger & @panthergoddessbast

O’Shea Powell is a young, successful business woman with an insatiable sexual appetite. After speaking with her boss, she’s referred to world renowned sex therapist Dr. Erik Stevens, but is she getting herself into more than she can handle?

MASTERLIST

YOUR ONLYFAN

Collab with @princessstevens

Mahari Khamisi Owens is an undergraduate biology pre-med student with aspirations of becoming a neonatologist. Reserved, and a lover of all things anime, her junior year at Oakland University takes an interesting turn when she develops a crush on the Graduate Assistant for her least favorite class. Erik Stevens is charming and charismatic, but is harboring a secret that changes Hari’s entire perspective on him and awakens a side of her she never knew existed. Can she keep this secret or will the obsession consume her?

MASTERLIST

SCREAM: A HALLOWEEN SERIES - COMPLETED

Collab with @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

Erik & his girlfriend Vanity love Spooky Season, so when Erik’s friend Dominic decides to throw a Halloween party at his luxurious cabin in the woods, the couple is more than excited. What starts off as innocent role play between the couple quickly turns into a night of terror. Will they survive the night?

MASTERLIST

I’ll Take Yo Man

Carry On - From Wakanda With Love Submission

Dreams & Nightmares

When Your Plug A Girl Blurb

Kush & Anime

WHATCHAMACALLIT

Amina Brown has a one nightstand with world heavy weight champion boxer Adonis Creed. But what happens when she decides she wants more than one night?

MASTERLIST

BLOOD MONEY

Eden’s broke. Her rent’s late, her car sounds like it’s choking, and her dreams of making it as a singer in New Orleans are getting harder to hold onto. So when she sees a sketchy little ad offering big cash to be a “discreet donor,” she answers it. She tells herself it’s just money. Just blood. Just once. But the contract’s signed, the room is breathing, and Eden? She might’ve just stepped into something deeper than debt.

MASTERLIST

HEATHENS

After being turned into vampires by Stack’s old flame, Mary, brothers Smoke and Stack return to the Bayous of New Orleans to seek help from the woman they left behind: Hoodoo priestess Cécile Boudreaux. They want a cure, but Cécile’s not just holding a grudge. She’s carrying a secret. Stack is the father of her daughter. As old flames reignite and dark forces close in, Cécile must decide how far she’ll go to protect her child, her power, and her heart. But when a witch becomes a vampire, nothing stays buried for long.

MASTERLIST

Light My Fire

In Case You’re Listening

Mafia Princess (Soon Come)

Mona Lisa (Soon Come)

Sunday Dinner

Payback

A.D.I.D.A.S.

Green Goddess (written for @hearteyes-for-killmonger)

Suddenly Stevens (written for @yaachtynoboat711)

Beauty is Her Name

It’s Complicated (written for @princesskillmonger)

I’m Sorry (written for @bidibidibombaclaat)

The Great Reveal (written for @thehomierobbstark)

Neighbors Know My Name (A Continuation to On the Hotline by @hearteyes-for-killmonger)

Sacrifice (1) (2) - written for @panthergoddessbast & @blktinkerbell

The Devil Speaks Xhosa - written for @blackpantherismyish

Mile High

Trap Card

Act Up - written for @princessstevens

Let Me Smell It - written for @princessstevens

Up Late - written for @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

Cam Girl: Day Dreamin’ - @nahimjustfeelingit-writes Smut Challenge submission

Boo’s Dollhouse Chapter 2: Honey - @nahimjustfeelingit-writes Kinktober Submission

[ovytia-art]

I loved the vibes of these lines, I absolutely had to try my hand at spooky lighting and colours for it hehe

For @green-with-envy-phandom-event, lines by @furiarossa

[heatherwitch]

Bedridden witch: Seasons edition

I made a series for The Wheel of the Year many years ago but I realize that not everyone follows it and dividing suggestions into the four seasons as well might be more helpful for some!

Spring 🌿

Collect the first rain of the season and keep it in a jar

Drink floral or fruit teas

Burn floral or fruit scented candles

Light a candle or turn on an electric candle.

Open the curtains to let light in. 

Visualize a light cleaning each and every room in your home.

Decorate with dried, fresh or fake flowers.

Spray a cleansing spray throughout your bedroom.

Clean an area in your home, big or small. (It could be as simple as making a pile of trash so it’s easier to move later.)

Bathe yourself (either in the tub or sponge bath style). Infuse some herbs/flowers into the water!

Water your plants and whisper blessings to them.

Plant something new! It can be as simple as a beansprout in a paper cup.

Meditate and imagine yourself out in your favorite area in spring.

Make a terrarium.

Spray floral water in the air and on your bedsheets.

Watch for and welcome the returning birds

Learn about local plants.

Crack open all your windows to let in some fresh air.

Bedridden witch: Garden edition

Summer ☀️

Make sun water/tea

Drink fruit teas, infused water or juices

Burn floral or fruit candles

Decorate with flowers and crystals.

Wake up earlier than usual to enjoy a full day of light.

Try to be awake and witness both the sunrise and sunset.

Decorate your windows with rainbow prisms.

Make flower crowns with fresh, dried or paper flowers.

Make sure sunlight and fresh air can reach you.

Enjoy some fresh fruits, veggies, nuts and seeds.

Decorate with/wear/create things with bright colors:

Decorate a new pot for your plants (painting, sharpies, ribbons, etc.)

If you can, put a bird feeder outside your window or just watch them as they fly by.

Pour an offering of water for the plants (indoors, outside or out the window).

Have a picnic (outside, on the kitchen floor or in bed).

Find a way to incorporate honey into your day (scrubs, food, tea, etc.)

Burn beeswax candles.

Listen to music that just sounds like summertime.

Autumn 🍂

Collect the first rain of the season and keep it in a jar

Drink spiced tea, apple ciders

Infuse berries into water.

Burn spiced, woodsy or autumn scented candles

Eat things like breads, nuts, grapes, pomegranates, pies, apples and root vegetables.

Start a new project like crocheting or knitting. This is also a great time to finish that project you’ve been avoiding.

Wear and decorate and create with browns, golds, dark greens, oranges and yellows.

Decorate your home to make it look more like Autumn (fake or real leaves, acorns, paper cutouts, etc.)

Create a picnic/feast wherever is reasonable, with a little bit of everything.

Pull up a video of leaves falling or a fire crackling.

Pumpkin pie, pumpkin spiced-things, pumpkin seeds.

Decorate with small pumpkins, paint them or draw on them if carving is too high-energy.

Create an altar honoring loved ones who have passed on, either a material one or a photo album online.

Pull up a video of a burning fire or light candles.

Turn off all of the lights and sit/lay in darkness.

Visualize your wards and boost your home protection.

Do spirit work/leave offerings for the spirits.

Burn incense/make a spray that smells of spices (cloves, basil, etc.)

Watch spooky/witchy movies.

Winter ❄️

Collect the first snow/make snow water and keep it in a jar

Drink seasonal teas, ciders and hot cocoa

Burn spruce, pine or winter scented candles

Watch gifs/videos of snow, ice forming, fire crackling, etc.

Get/make a small wreath and keep it indoors!

Keep clear quartz and snowflake obsidian around.

Make paper snowflakes! Or find an app/website where you can do a digital one.

Use your heat to draw sigils on frosted windows.

Put a bird feeder outside your window so you get winter visitors!

Get empty glass ornaments and fill them with herbs/pine needles/things that remind you of winter and hang them around.

Get some cute little snow globes. 

Decorate with winter colors! White, blue, silver, grey, dark green, etc.

Create an apple pomander with cloves or dried orange slices.

Decorate with evergreen boughs, holly, pine cones, etc.

Wash your face with snow/cold water.

Make rosehip, peppermint, vanilla, rooibos or spiced tea.

Step outside/open a window to feel the cold air (if you live somewhere warm, do this in the early morning/night).

Handcraft gifts for loved ones or write heartfelt cards/letters to the people you care about.

Put birdseed outside/a bird feeder by your window.

Make a simmer pot, or use this idea to create a scented spray.

Bedridden witch: Winter edition (more ideas in this post!)

You may also like:

Bedridden witch series

Bedridden witch: Wheel of the year edition

Bedridden witch: Elements edition

Bedridden witch: Weather edition

Bedridden witch: Nature edition

Witchcraft for the chronically fatigued

Spoonie witch masterpost

[supernotnatural2005]

Clowning Around

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: You’ve got a crush on Dean, your best friend’s brother. The catch, he's only in town for a few more days. However, all it takes is a haunted house, a punch to the face and a surprising confession to know where you stand.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings/tags: Fluff! Eventual pairing. I love everyone involved. Mentions of unintentional assault.

AN: Okay, so I hadn't expected to get something out so quickly, but I guess I was just inspired and this is what came of this wonderful mood board and challenge from @chevroletdean ❤️ I've never written from a mood board inspo before, so I hope I did okay? 😅 I also took a bit of inspo from New Girl S2 Ep6. (gif not mine)

Congrats on 500 friend 🎉

Masterlist

The evening air was crisp, swirling with the scent of kettle corn, hot cider, and woodsmoke from the fire pits set up around the Stanford fall carnival. You stood just outside the haunted house, the multicoloured lights of the fairgrounds casting a warm glow on your torn and bloodied zombie costume.

Fog machines hissed faintly behind you, and a dark sinister voice echoed from the entrance speakers, adding atmosphere for the next wave of thrill-seekers waiting to be terrified.

You should’ve been hyped. Halloween was your absolute favourite time of year. Spooky costumes, haunted houses, candy, cozy sweaters—this was your season. You’d even signed up to volunteer as an extra for the haunted house this year, practically bouncing when Jess suggested it. But tonight, the buzz just wasn’t there.

Because Dean hadn’t shown.

A week and a half ago, Sam had introduced you to his older brother at your local bar just off campus. You’d heard stories about Dean Winchester—grease monkey, classic rock enthusiast, had practically raised Sam after their parents had passed. You expected to like him on principle alone. You just hadn’t expected how much.

And man, you were crushing hard.

You’d hit it off immediately—easy banter, shared love for horror movies and greasy diner food, the way he actually listened when you talked about your thesis like it was interesting and not soul-draining. And his eyes—God, those green eyes—had this way of locking onto yours like he saw you. Really saw you. 

He’d been in town for two weeks, crashing with Sam and Jess, and since you’d been the honorary third wheel long before Dean arrived, it was only natural that the four of you had spent a lot of time together. 

However, nothing had happened. Nothing beyond harmless flirting or the occasional teasing glance. Sure, there were moments—his thigh brushing yours when he sat too close, fingers grazing as you passed each other a drink or walked side-by-side—but it never led anywhere. 

Dean was leaving in a few days anyway, heading back to Kansas, back to a life you weren’t part of. Maybe that was why he’d kept his distance. Or maybe it was your own insecurities whispering that he just didn’t see you that way.

Jess swore up and down that he was into you.

“He asked me if you were seeing anyone. Twice,” she’d said just this morning, practically bouncing on her toes as she dabbed fake blood onto your cheek. Jess had clocked the chemistry from the start, maybe even before you had.

A part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that this had been her plan all along. That she’d hoped something like this would spark before Dean even got to campus.

Sam, of course, seemed blissfully unaware—just happy to have his brother around again—but even you had started to get suspicious of the hushed whispers between him and Jess whenever you and Dean were in the same room.

Still, despite yourself, you’d smiled—nervous, giddy, full of hope.

Tonight was your chance to find out for sure. You’d invited him to the carnival, hoping he’d show up. Maybe even join the haunted house with you. Your plan was to finally bite the bullet and just ask him out. Long-distance? You could try it. 

There was just something about Dean that made you want to throw caution to the wind—to be bold, reckless, brave. He was different. Special.

And maybe it was crazy to think that way from only knowing someone for such a short period of time, but there was something electric about Dean—like he was carved out of your daydreams and dropped straight into your life.

But then Jess and Sam arrived without him. She had tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice when she said he had to drive out of town for something work-related.

You’d played it cool. Nodded. Smiled. Shoved the disappointment down into the pit of your stomach as you took your place in the haunted house, ready to scare the ever-loving hell out of strangers.

But, your heart wasn’t in it. You did your job—jumped out of coffins, hissed from behind tombstones, chased a couple of high schoolers with a plastic axe—but your enthusiasm had taken a hit.

And then, just as you were leaning against a gravestone prop, waiting for the next group, you heard a noise behind you.

“BOO!”

A clown—huge mask, frizzy hair, red nose, and all—lunged out of the shadows right into your face.

You yelped and reacted on instinct.

CRACK.

Your fist collided with the clown’s face with a satisfying thud, and he stumbled back with a sharp groan.

“Shit—”

You blinked, adrenaline still buzzing in your veins, as the stranger pulled the mask away from their face.

“Dean?!”

Dean stood there, eyes wide, one hand clutched over his nose, which was rapidly turning red and beginning to swell.

“Oh my God!” You rushed forward. “I am so, so sorry—oh God.” You cupped his face in your hands without thinking, scanning his features with guilt.

He winced, but his grin was lopsided and teasing. “That was one hell of a right hook.”

You groaned and grabbed his arm, tugging him toward the carnival grounds, guiding him to a picnic bench beneath some newly lit orange lanterns. People milled around you, kids in costumes darting between booths and couples sharing funnel cake, but your world had narrowed to the man nursing his nose beside you.

“Sit. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

You returned minutes later with a paper towel-turned-cloth from a nearby food stall and a small paper cup filled with ice. Dean took them both with a grateful grunt as you sat beside him.

“You really clocked me,” he said with a chuckle, pressing the ice to his face. “I’m gonna feel that tomorrow.”

“I feel it now,” you muttered, horrified. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

“That was kind of the point,” he said with a sheepish smile. “Wanted to surprise you.”

Jess and Sam passed by just then, and Sam burst out laughing the moment he saw Dean’s face.

“Oh this is everything?” Sam wheezed. The kid was turning purple almost as he clutched his stomach, and Jess was no better as she giggled beside him. 

“Yeah, hold this jokester.” Dean threw his mask at Sam who caught it on reflex and then recoiled instantly, dropping it to the ground when he saw what it was. 

The two of you burst out laughing, Sam’s bitch-face in full bloom. His phobia of clowns clearly not lost on the pair of you. 

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.” The brothers exchange before Jess looped her arm through Sam’s, tugging him back towards the line of stalls.

“Come, we’ll leave the zombie to nurse her victim, maybe even sample his flesh.” Jess shot you a sly wink despite your pointed look, before they wandered off, leaving the two of you alone once again.

Dean leaned back, ice still to his face, but he offered you a crooked smile. “So… Hi.”

You couldn’t help but huff a laugh and cover your face with your hands. “I can’t believe I punched you in the face.” You groaned.

He laughed, nudging you with his shoulder. “Yeah, but come on, at least it was memorable.” You laughed softly, and he smiled at the sound.

The moment stretched out, neither awkward or uncomfortable. The fading sun had cast the sky in a hue of deep oranges and purples and you found yourself admiring it before Dean spoke up again.

“I quit my job.”

You blinked. “Wait. What?”

He nodded, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Told my boss to shove it. I’m done busting my ass for sixty hours a week just to get talked down to by a guy who thinks a compliment might kill him.” He huffed humourlessly and shook his head.

“I mean, I've been dreaming about opening my own garage for years—figured it was about time I stopped dreaming and actually did something about it. So… why the hell not, right?”

Your eyes softened. He’d told you about this dream one night while the two lightweights had passed out on the couch, leaving you and Dean to keep the party going, which essentially consisted of eating your weight in multipacks of halloween candy and watching b-movie horror films. 

You remembered the way his eyes lit up as he talked about it. Of wanting to be his own boss, about the freedom, about building something for himself. You’d been more than encouraging, having to refrain yourself from sounding like every positive, uplifting bumper sticker ever.

“But it’s more than just the job,” he went on, voice quieter now. “Kansas hasn’t felt like home in a long time.”

Your heart twisted at that. You already knew from Sam about their parents—how much they'd lost, how empty that place must feel without them. A ghost town full of memories.

Without thinking, you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers through his and giving it a soft squeeze. He looked at you then—really looked. And for a moment, everything around you seemed to slow, like the world had paused to catch its breath.

“Now I’ve quit. There’s nothing keeping me there. But…” He trailed off, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his gaze flickered between your eyes. “There’s a lot pulling me here.”

Your heart skipped, like it had hit a bump in the road. Hope bloomed fast and fierce in your chest.

“I found a shop,” he said, voice a little quieter now. “Small place, not far from here. Needs some work, but it’s got good bones. I’m thinking of buying it.”

You stared at him, mouth parting. “You want to move here?”

“Yeah,” he said, almost shy. “And I was kinda hoping that… if I’m gonna be sticking around, that maybe I could take you out sometime? If you’d be interested?”

He barely got the words out before you leaned in and kissed him.

It was fast, impulsive. One full of pent-up nerves and relief, but when he let out a soft grunt and you jerked away.

“Oh crap—sorry!”

Dean winced, but the crooked smile spreading across his face was pure mischief. “No, no—it’s good. Totally worth it.”

You snorted, but your laugh dissolved as he hooked a finger into the neckline of your torn costume and tugged you gently toward him. This kiss was much slower—sweeter. His lips brushed over yours with such softness it made your breath catch, his hand warm against your cheek.

You melted into him, smiling against his mouth as the carnival lights flickered behind your closed eyes like the very fireworks exploding in your stomach.

Halloween had always been your favourite holiday, but now you have one more reason why.

AN: I hope you all liked this one, it was a lot of fun to write 💗, feedback is always welcomed 😘

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean Winchester Tag List:

@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter

@tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2

@deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown

@jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @shadysoulangel @my-stories-vault

@piptoost @star-yawnznn @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27

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@rach5ive @ladysparkles78 @globetrotter28 @amberlthomas @illicithallways

[neerathebrightstar]

Prequel : “ Curse upon thy garden”

pairing: Hal Jordan x gn reader

Hanahaki disease trope with a sprinkle of yandere (for now)

Inspired by @acid-ixx series again&again so it will get so much worse before it gets better

Read until the end for the author’s note

It isn’t until Hal starts coughing up petals that he realises how truly fucked he is. Sitting in front of the toilet bowl, retching and choking on red, purple and pink flowers he doesn’t know the name of, Hal allows himself to mourn. He mourns for the love that he now is sure will never be reciprocated and he mourns himself. There is no need to go see a surgeon when Hal knows he won’t be able to do what’s necessary to cure the disease. After all, Hanahaki ends in two ways: death or the flowers have to stop growing. And because Hal knows there is no way his love will ever love him back, the only way to save his lungs from becoming an overgrown garden is the surgery. It’s a horrific thing, barbaric even. Instead of love and petals, after the procedure there is a clean slate. It rids you of any feelings for the object of your affection and the ability to ever feel anything for them again. Hal’s love is strong, just like his will, it borders on obsession, and ever growing need to own the object of his desires. In the end it doesn’t matter if Hal will die, he is not afraid of death, what scares him is losing you. To never feel the love that bleeds from his heart into his lungs, and grows into the beauty with thorns is to truly die. You are his life, the air he breathes and flowers he chokes on. To allow someone to tear them out of their fertile soil is to tear out his heart.

When Spooky first demanded Hal stay away from his city, the ring wielding hero hadn’t paid the request (order really) much thought. Gotham was still in Jordan’s sector, he was obliged to patrol in the Known Universe so it was not like Batman could keep him out of his nest. Hal didn’t particularly like the vigilante too much since, well always, and getting on his nerves was like a hobby to him. He was pretty sure that Batman lived in a cave anyway (because who the fuck was even Bruce Wayne?) so who did he think he was to lecture the Great Green Lantern how to do this job.

It was during one of the moments when Hal felt like making a nuisance out of himself that he flew to Gotham using the ring. The original plan was to find Batman, see him pop a blood vessel, then go back home satisfied, drink a few beers and sleep. The problem was that he couldn’t find Spooky. Or any of the masked vigilantes in bird themed costumes (ridiculous idea if you were to ask him). But he couldn’t just leave like a dog with its tail tucked between his legs. God forbid one of Batman’s kids whose veins were filled with whatever serrum Bats invented to make them nocturnal find out about it and taunt him with it. He would not be bullied by kids with rabies thank you very much.

Hal flies around Gotham a couple of times as Green Lantern and stops a few minor crimes just to really rub it in Bruce’s face. He feels like a rebellious teenager decorating alleys with his signature graffiti and it makes him giddy. He doesn’t engage in any bigger stuff regarding Gotham’s colourful gallery of rogues. That will really piss Batman off, and Hal understands why. It would be like saying that he can’t handle his mess, in his own city, so while Jordan likes to irritate Spooky he still respects him enough not to get in his way too much.

He spends an hour like that before he decides that the Big Bad Bat won’t show up after all. He turns around to return to his home when he sees them. They are sitting on a rooftop, in one of the darker parts of Gotham (and Hal isn’t talking about light only, he is pretty sure most of the attacks he stopped tonight were in this neighbourhood), dressed in loose and old pants and the ugliest Christmas jumper Hal has ever seen. Even from so far away (he can’t explain why it bothers him that he can’t touch them immediately, whenever he wants) Jordan knows they are getting ready to jump (it will kill them and the thought takes all of breath from his lungs). He can’t scare them so he makes the glow of his suit even brighter, to the point he really looks like a human green lantern and flows to meet them gently over the railing. Their eyes snap from the asfalt below when Hal drapes himself dramatically next to them. He smiles somewhere between cocky and gentle and wiggles his brows.

“Everything's all right there, sweetheart?”

When they finally face him completely, something in his chest clicks so loudly, Hal knows that half of Gotham heard him. Staring at him are the loveliest eyes he ever saw on any species he encountered in Galaxy. Tears stream along their face like the artist's carefully placed strokes of a brush. Few of the city’s misplaced lights shine on their cheeks like glitter. It only adds to the fairytale like picture and the tugging on his hearth increases.

“Green Lantern? What are you doing in Gotham?”

Oh god. Thousands of angels sing in that voice (your voice is scratchy from all the crying but he doesn’t hear that. Right now he can’t stop looking and the only thing he sees is perfection) and Hal feels honoured his ears were worthy enough to hear it. He feels the sudden urge to tuck them under his head and protect them from all the harm in this world and every other world out there.

“Business with Gotham’s own Dark Knight. But seems his lady doesn’t own to good of a leash for her guard dog cause I can’t find him anywhere”

Hal pretends not to see how their face falls at the mention of the former emo kids and the BDSM enthusiasts wet dream come true clad in his leather glory and focuses on the problem at hand. They were trying to jump.

“But the FreakTM can wait, his bedtime doesn’t start until the sun goes up. Plenty of time to catch him later. Mind if I sit with you?”

He feels proud of himself when they crack a smile at his joke and don’t jump down to crack their skull instead. They look around, like they are checking if he is really talking to them before they scooch a little and put their knees to their chest. They wrap their hands around them and it’s only now that Hal sees them shaking. The Gotham air is chilly when Jordan finally sits down next to them before conjuring a big, warm and glowing green blanket to wrap around their shoulders. Hal more than feels the breath that hitched in his companion’s chest. They seem so small now, so breakable and Hal thanks whatever deity watched over them today that he made it on time.

“Bad day huh?”

They take their sweet time to respond but he waits patiently, so unlike himself, made to always leap into action. But it’s important, he can’t fuck it up. They sit there together, watching the streets of the crime infested city until the Batsignal appears on the foggy grey night sky. The civilians don’t usually fear the Bat, he protects them as much as he protects the city, but the one next to him clearly flinched like they were just slapped. He doesn’t ask because they are beginning to choke on sobs. They clutch their jumper and to Hal’s horror, they start beating themselves just over their hearth. He quickly takes their hands between his and squeezes.

“Please don’t do that”

They try to take their hands from him and sob more loudly. Hal doesn’t let go so they sit like that for a few more minutes before their silent voice interrupts the crying.

“Can you please hold me?”

They sound embarrassed and Hal wants to strangle whoever made them feel like asking for comfort is something not available to them. He pulls them so close they are practically sitting in his lap and hugs them tightly. They latch on him instantly and Jordan starts to pet their hair with one hand, humming softly.

“As long as you wish for, sweetheart”

That night you fall asleep on the hero’s shoulder, captured in his arms. You wake up alone but safe in your own bed, still wrapped in the glowing blanket. It doesn’t disappear until you properly stand up. The apartment is cold as always and there is nothing that can be done about that. But you feel warmer at the memory of last night. Because that was a Green Lantern, a hero both on this planet and others, a founding member of the Justice League. It has been a long time since anyone willingly offered you comfort like that. Sure, when you lived in the manor Alfred and his mostly silent presence was there, but he never touched you openly like that. Like a father or an older brother concerned for your wellbeing. And to be important enough in the Lantern’s eyes that he took time out of his day and saved you from throwing yourself to a certain death? It was a freeing experience, it showed you that you matter. So what if you never saw him again? You will always remember his embrace, his sweet nickname for you but most importantly you will always remember that every other day you will get to live will be thanks to his kindness.

It was not the last time you ever saw Hal. After he suffered through the Batman’s angry speech about respecting each heroes rules in their city (what a hypocrite, Hal knew very well he had contingencies on all of them and regularly broke their established rules) and his threats to never show his ugly green glow there again, the only thing he could think about was you. Your pretty, shiny eyes and soft, heartbreaking smile. He had to see you again. Just for the peace of his mind to make sure you didn’t try to jump again. It also had an added benefit of regularly pissing off Spooky who was sure to get an aneurysm if he ever saw him flirting with a civilian in his city as a Green Lantern.

The next time he comes, he should bring something to eat with him. He saw your pathetic excuse of a kitchen so what better way to charm you than feed you? He couldn’t exactly ask you out to a proper restaurant like he normally would, not in a suit so takeout would have to do. He needs to catch your name this time. After all he has to make sure it will sound good with your future last name “Jordan”.

this work is a gift to a wonderful @acid-ixx who inspires me everyday to write. his series a&a changed me as a person and I recommend you read it. this work is inspired by his series and i plan on it being a multi chapter piece but i won’t promise any regular posting, my writing schedule is shit. Yael i love you for your hard work and writing so this was meant to be a birthday present for you but I didn’t manage to finish it on time and i still had to split it.

If anyone want to be tagged let me know <3

[bloodstainedsapphic]

horror movie nights | roommate!ellie williams with a halloween loving!reader self-indulgent fluff bc i want this to happen to me just besties doing bestie things- right? right?

ellie isn't big on halloween, where you're absolutely obsessed with everything about it. she seems at least okay with, if not indifferent toward the festivities, which you take as a green light to drag her along to everything. maybe it was willful ignorance, but you were just super excited to have her by your side during the spooky season.

like, she does help you put up an egregious amount of gaudy decorations in your shared space, offering faint smiles while you buzz about skeletons, pumpkins, and cobwebs draped on every surface.

you fail to notice that her smiles aren't directed towards the festivities but instead your reactions to them-- how happy it makes you.

since ellie usually has no problem complaining when she doesn't like something, you remain oblivious, continuing as normal with going all out on your halloween plans.

she even agrees to watch a scary movie with you, and you naturally assume she'll enjoy it just as much.

that's how you end up on your thrifted couch long after dark, cozied up with your sides pressed snugly together under a blanket.

the campy slasher flick assaults your eyes with jump scare after jump scare. you're having a blast, with whole-body jolts and little squeals escaping you whenever a good scare gets you.

your enjoyment drops, however, when you notice ellie's posture in stark contrast to your enthusiasm. she's unnervingly stiff, trying hard to appear calm and collected while feeling anything but.

the only part of her that isn't uncannily rigid is her hands trembling in her lap atop the blankets.

without thinking, you wordlessly slide your hand over hers, intertwining your fingers in your first show of physical affection.

you sense a short-circuit in ellie as soon as she registers the unexpected contact. you feel her rigidity melt into your hold, her body visibly relaxing into the couch in a more content state.

you're not completely off the hook, though, as she squeezes the fuck out of your hand during the most intense scenes of the movie. but you're totally fine with that.

hell, you're emboldened enough to make more attempts to bond in a way that comforts her. you lean in impossibly close, making little jokes, pointing out absurd facts to make it all feel less real. it works almost too perfectly, as ellie starts to tease you about your extensive knowledge about these tiny movie details-- to which you remind her of her sci-fi collectibles.

you find you love whispering things in her ear that makes them blush, and by the end of the film, you're cuddling in such a way that could only feel less platonic if you were actually-----

neither of you acknowledged the rising tension afterward. but it does get easier to start showing your roommate..bestie..more physical affection onward.  © finalgirllx. pic creds: ellqsaep on tt

[good-chimes]

Operational Log from the Government Institute for Ghost Supervision (G.I.G.S.):

AGENTS: “ImpulseSV”, “Skizzleman”, “Grian”, “GoodTimesWithScar”

SUPERVISOR: [Redacted]

[Impulse has submitted a request for ‘$2000’ for reason ‘Van’]

SUPERVISOR: Hi boys. Pleasure to be working with you. Can you give a better reason than ‘van’ for why you need two fucking thousand American dollars?

IMPULSE: Oh, sorry sir. We just need to replace some things in the van.

GRIAN: By which he means everything in the van.

SUPERVISOR: You lost ALL YOUR EQUIPMENT?

IMPULSE: You’re new, aren’t you, sir. Have you…met Scar?

SUPERVISOR: I have your personnel files. What does this have to do with Scar?

GRIAN: Oh, you’ll find out.

IMPULSE: Our last supervisor just sort of, uh, approved things. I’ve got receipts.

SKIZZ: We’re at the school, guys! Stop chatting and get in there!

IMPULSE: Gotta go!

[crackle]

GRIAN: Okay, so Scar, Impulse and Skizz are in the building. So far we’ve got the power turned on but no clues. There’s a spooky sort of bonfire in the main hall. Got skulls on it.

SCAR: I lit the bonfire!

GRIAN: Breaking news, Scar has lit the bonfire.

SUPERVISOR: Why did you light the bonfire!? You could draw the attention of a ghost!

GRIAN: Yeah, Skizz, why did you let Scar set something on fire? Pretty irresponsible.

SKIZZ: [noise of incoherent outrage] You try stopping him, buddy.

GRIAN: Can’t, I’m in the van. [further noise of outrage from Skizz]. Impulse is reporting EMF Level 5—didn’t anyone set up cameras? What kind of team doesn’t set up cameras? We’ve got a new supervisor to impress.

SUPERVISOR: Cameras should not be set up during a mission! You should have set them up in the daytime!

IMPULSE: We could use some cameras.

SKIZZ: GRIAN, YOU GET IN HERE, BUDDY.

GRIAN: Okay, okay, fine! I’ll get the cameras.

SUPERVISOR: Why are you risking the whole team in the building at the same—

[Scar has submitted request for ‘$5’ for reason ‘glowsticks’]

SUPERVISOR: Why on god’s green earth do you need glowsticks!?

SKIZZ: Scar, those don’t do anything.

SCAR: They keeps you safe from ghosts!

SKIZZ: What, because they’re too cool for raves?

SCAR: I want glowsticks or I’m resigning.

SUPERVISOR: You can’t resign in the middle of mission!

IMPULSE: Haunt! Everyone quiet!

SUPERVISOR: Wait, a real haunt? That’s highly dangerous! Get out!

[crackle]

IMPULSE: False alarm, that noise was Skizz and Scar frying hot dogs.

[Scar has submitted request for ‘$1’ for reason ‘needs salt’]

SUPERVISOR: Not approved! You’re not supposed to fry hotdogs on an eldritch bonfire!

SKIZZ: We were hungry!

GRIAN: Wait, you guys have hotdogs in there? I’m coming in.

IMPULSE: Oh, wait—wait—yep, there’s the haunt.

[crackle]

GRIAN: Well, Scar’s dead.

SUPERVISOR: Oh god! What!

IMPULSE: I was wondering why they didn’t get attacked. Just a slow ghost, I guess.

SUPERVISOR: An agent is dead and you’re joking!?

GRIAN: Oh, he’ll be fine.

SKIZZ: I got some tarot cards here.

SUPERVISOR: Don’t touch the cursed items! Find your colleague’s body!

[crackle]

SCAR: I hate all of you. You left me to die.

SUPERVISOR: What? Just a goddamn minute. That was a joke? Agent Scar is alive?

IMPULSE: Scar, buddy, cheer up.

SCAR: Grian shut a door in my face!

SUPERVISOR: One agent impeded another’s investigation?

SCAR: Yeah! I was impuded!

GRIAN: What! How is this my fault! A ghost was coming at me and I shut a door!

SCAR: And killed me!

GRIAN: That sounds like a you problem.

SCAR: Sir, I want to file a complaint. About Grian.

SUPERVISOR: Well, put in a placeholder and we’ll—

[Scar has submitted file ‘grain Complaint’]

[Grian has submitted file ‘Grian’s Official Resignation Letter’]

SUPERVISOR: Boys, this sounds like it’s gotten heated, let’s take it offline. Agent Scar, we’ll look into this later. Agent Grian, put your resignation on hold.

IMPULSE: They do this a lot.

SKIZZ: It’s affection. You love each other.

SCAR: I love Grian not murdering me.

GRIAN: I love Scar saving me some hot dogs. Oh wait, he didn’t.

SKIZZ: C’mon, fellas, where’s this ghost?

IMPULSE: We gotta use some of these cursed items.

GRIAN: I vote Scar looks in the haunted mirror. Anyone else want to volunteer? No? See, vote carried.

[Scar has submitted file ‘Im Resigning’]

[Grian has submitted file ‘I’m Resigning HARDER’]

[Scar has submitted file ‘No your not’]

[Last 3 requests have been denied]

SUPERVISOR: How on earth do you work with them?

[Grian has submitted file ‘Turbo Resignation Letter’]

IMPULSE: Oh, me and Skizz have got a knack for it, sir. You just have to let them work it out. Or shut one of them up for the ghost to get.

[Last 1 request has been denied]

SUPERVISOR: Boys, this is sounding like a really dangerous situation and I think you should get out of there. I’m calling a retreat.

SKIZZ: Gimme the mirror, I’ll try saying the ghost’s name.

SUPERVISOR: Did you hear me? Is this thing on? Saying the name is EXPLICITLY the one thing that is unsafe to do on missions!

GRIAN: Huh. Maybe we should have read the manual.

SKIZZ: Just let me do it, sir, we get results.  

SUPERVISOR: Are you four always like this?

IMPULSE: Oh, no. Usually these missions go much worse.

SUPERVISOR: No! No, nobody is looking in any cursed mirrors! I have eighty successful mission supervisions under my belt—

SCAR: Sounds uncomfortable.

SUPERVISOR: Our department has a clean record of no agent deaths—

GRIAN: Oh damn, I knew I should have submitted our reports.

SUPERVISOR: And I—What reports?

IMPULSE: Don’t tell him about the reports!

SUPERVISOR: Is this data right? You haven’t sent in a report in… five YEARS?

GRIAN: One thing and another, you know.

SUPERVISOR: No! Enough! You are the WORST team I have ever worked with and every practice you have is UNSAFE and I bet one of you is looking in the cursed mirror RIGHT NOW—

[crackle]

[crackle]

GRIAN: Scar’s dead again.

SUPERVISOR: [calming breath] Okay, you lot clearly have your jokes, like last time, but I need you to know that’s not funny.

GRIAN: I can get a picture of how he ragdolled. His head’s on backwards. It’s hilarious.

[Grian has submitted photo file lol.jpg]

SUPERVISOR: … That … that is a man who has been killed by a malevolent spirit! That spirit is deadly!

SKIZZ: Funny, the ones they send us on are always deadly.

IMPULSE: Get him back to the van.

SUPERVISOR: LEAVE IMMEDIATELY! I AM CALLING AN AMBULANCE!

IMPULSE: You don’t need to do that—

GRIAN: Hey! Dots! I just saw dots!

SKIZZ: Yes! Mark off dots!

IMPULSE: Sweet, we’ve got it! It’s a White Lady! Let’s go, guys!

SUPERVISOR: Is anyone listening? Is anyone listening to me?

[crackle]

SUPERVISOR: Come in. Come in.

SUPERVISOR: I know you’re driving back. Answer your goddamn radio.

SCAR: Well, hello there.

SUPERVISOR: This is very serious. I have to report Agent Scar’s death—Agent Scar? Is that you?

SCAR: The one, the only!

SUPERVISOR: You were dead!

SCAR: Oh, yeah, but then they brought me into the van and we left.

SUPERVISOR: How—what—

SCAR: I dunno, ask Impulse! I’m usually dead by this point.

SUPERVISOR: Agent Impulse! How!

IMPULSE: Me and Skizz have been doing this a long time, sir. Guess we’ve just got a knack.

SUPERVISOR: A knack for—a knack for—I’m going to get a drink.

SCAR: Toast our great success. Hey, hey, Grian, that’s my hot dog. I died for that hot dog!

GRIAN: You weren’t looking! Finder’s keepers!

IMPULSE: Careful of the wheel, guys, careful of the wheel—

SUPERVISOR: I’m never working with your team again!

SKIZZ: Yeah? I get ya, buddy. See you next week.